tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43342495497321433192024-02-19T14:19:01.934-08:00″A traveler without observation is a bird without wings.” - SaadiFaisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-15925036525877340032012-01-07T01:43:00.000-08:002014-11-12T21:49:44.262-08:00Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Victoria Falls has been a location of dreams for me. As a self-proclaimed nature documentary nerd, I had seen the falls on tv on many occasions and was just absolutely blown away by their beauty and shear power….I knew that my trip to Botswana would put me well in reach of seeing the falls. I succeeded, but it was in no way an easy task. Here is my post about the last weekend on the Botswana trip:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As a Pakistani who is very fond of travelling, holding a green booklet labeled Islamic Republic of Pakistan is quite the challenge. I love my country of birth, but damn travelling is hard. Canadian, American, and British passport holders, if you want to bring new meaning and appreciation to your travels, become a Pakistani national and travel on a Pakistani passport (or not). That passport was my first challenge for the trip. I needed a visa for Zimbabwe prior to arrival at the border post. I set about getting all my papers and documents ready, making calls and what not, and basically held up the entire group’s ambitions while I sorted my stuff out. The last full week rolled by and I still hadn’t gotten my passport with a visa. Frantic phone calls with embassy officials yelling at me became the norm and I probably became the most hated figure at the Zimbabwean embassy in Gaborone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At the end of the half working day on my last Friday, I had received confirmation that my visa had been stamped but my passport still needed to make its way back to me from Gaborone before I could start my journey. Isabelle and Thomas headed out and I stayed back anxiously waiting for the arrival of my passport. At this point, an amateur traveler who has not faced visa trouble before would have been in tears sobbing over the missed opportunity to see Vic Falls. Luck has played in our favour too many times this summer for it to be called luck. Fate. I woke up 7:30 Saturday morning, bags packed, with the intention of going and sitting in the DHL office when it opened at 8:00AM and waiting for my passport to arrive. At 8:30, just as the DHL office was in sight, the kind lady at DHL who I had convinced that this passport was a matter of life and death called to tell me the passport had arrived. I walked in while I was still on the phone with her, grabbed the package, thanked her, and literally ran to the bus rank. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At the bus rank, the Chobe Express heading to Kasane was waiting for its passengers. This is where the whole “we’ll move when the bus is full and not when we are scheduled to leave” policy just got too frustrating. I had a banana, made conversation about aging with an old man, and got too anxious. Plan B: hitching. I grabbed my bag and took a shared taxi to the hitchpoint for cars heading north. Traffic was thin and barely anyone was headed as far as I needed to go. I was getting desperate. On the other side of the road, an open back safari car had just pulled up and it belonged to one of the lodges operating day trips into Chobe National Park. The driver was buying cigarettes (and some other smokable stuff) and snacks for the trip. Desperate for a ride, I approached him and his biggest worry with letting me hitch was that the wind would be really bad. When is wind ever a concern? When you have a 6 hour journey in an open back car that actually can’t go more than 90kph because of the wind resistance. Make that 7 and a half hours. It was definitely a good time though. Amazing and genuine conversation with a safari guide who had left the hard drug life to do something he was passionate about. We got stopped by police and got a ticket, had lunch, and all along he was throwing knowledge at me like it was nobody’s business. By the end of that leg of the trip, we were basically bros. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The sun was going down fast, but atleast I was at the Kazungula Border Crossing into Zimbabwe with a valid visa in hand. The immigration guys were surprised (in a good way) by my passport. We made jokes. The Texans standing behind me were also surprised…but they were definitely sketched out. It was only fitting that their driver was the one that offered to take me from the border crossing into the Vic Falls town to meet up with the rest of the crew who had gone to Zambia for the day to swim in the Angel’s Armchair. Check out their blogs…some crazy stuff. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Zimbabwe was different. You could sense desperation from people and I, for the first time on the entire trip, felt like a tourist. To everyone in Vic Falls, that’s exactly what a I was and it was weird. The desperation was so bad that I felt uncomfortable at times. People selling souvenirs to tourists were offering 3 or 4 souvenirs for silly things like the white t-shirt I was wearing, or my water bottle, or anything I was carrying really. Money wasn’t the biggest priority. The biggest priority was securing the 5 elemental necessities for life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Saturday night I went to sleep in our tent knowing that I had accomplished a MAJOR hurdle and that I had literally won the battle of travelling. (Im actually fearless because of that experience). The rumbling of the waterfalls a kilometer away was the perfect lullaby. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sunday morning, Thomas and I headed out for our adrenalin pumping white water rafting attempt on the world’s most dangerous rapids on the Zambezi River. The girls went bungee jumping and gorge swinging on a bridge that connects Zambia and Zimbabwe with the falls a whole 30 meters away. For us, A 700-foot gorge descent in crappy non-hiking shoes, clear skies, and raging white water. We’re a crazy bunch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Thomas and I returned at 2 absolutely exhausted. I had yet to see the actual falls and had an hour before we Haddd to leave for Botswana. With soggy shoes, I ran to the Vic Falls National Park, paid a very hefty entrance fee, and headed for the falls. The next part is a bit strange to describe. I don’t even have good pictures of it because I was too scared to pull out my camera with all the mist (It was practically raining). Think of a kilometer long waterfall that drowns out all of the sounds in your head and covers you in shiny cool water that rises from below your feet. Add a double rainbow. That is Victoria Falls. The desperate commercialization and overpricing was a bit sad, but I succeeded. Now how on earth do you get back to Francistown, Botswana from Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe on a Sunday evening when no buses run between the two places? You hitchhike. I’m not going to talk about these hitchhikes, but they were a death-defying good time. In the end, we made it back for work on Monday morning and I achieved the unachievable. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-73238687097013307512011-08-12T02:13:00.000-07:002011-08-12T02:30:12.078-07:00A Weekend of Incredible Luck and Coincidence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">NOTE: There is a lot of natural gore in this post and I recommend that you don’t read it if </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;">blood</span><span style="font-size: small;">, </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;">internal organs</span><span style="font-size: small;">, and viciousness make you faint. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After not spotting any lions in Moremi Game Reserve while we were in Maun, Thomas and I decided that we would do ANYTHING to see lions in the wild before we left Botswana. Running low on spending money and not being able to miss any weekday for the sake of workplace professionalism, our best option was to go for a weekend to the 12000 km<sup>2</sup></span> <span style="font-size: small;">Chobe National Park where we had spotted the 2 females on our first game drive in Botswana in early June. This was one of those things where we knew that even if we planned this trip as meticulously as we could, there was absolutely NO guarantee that we would see anything. And that was the beauty of it all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The week before our trip to Chobe National Park, I sent out countless emails to tour operators and safari guides and explained to them full well that we weren’t looking for the luxury tourist weekend. All we wanted to do was spend as much time looking for the big cats as we possibly could with zero amenities. The main issue I ran into was that tour operators and personal guides are EXPENSIVE when you want to do your own thing. A lot of them had “set” activities where you would leave at 8AM, go for a boat cruise, have lunch, do a 3-hour game drive, camp, and then return the next day. There was little flexibility in such trips and they did not cater to our needs whatsoever. Of the 17 or so people I contacted, one man’s reply stood out in the sense that he didn’t ask about my budget or anything. He just said he would try and show us the big cats. His name was Godfrey Mbeha and the rest of the week was spent coordinating our weekend with him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After one hell of a stressful week, Friday’s arrival came as a relief. That first week of fasting for Ramadan was tough and there was just a lot going on at work in terms of recommendations report finalization and tempers were flaring. We quickly grabbed some groceries and headed to the hitchhiking point at 2PM. After about 10 minutes, a big man in a red Mercedes stopped to pick up people. In sticking with the “every man for himself” ideology, we beat the crowd to the car and blocked all doors. No mercy. With no space in the trunk and the AC off, we drove all the way to Kasane (6 hours) with all our bags and sleeping bags on our laps. SO HOT! On the way, we discussed how it would be cool if we came full circle and saw all the wildlife we had seen on our first journey to Kasane. Elephants, Ostrich, Giraffe, Kudu in that order. I don’t know if this is right but the chances of seeing all of those creatures on the highway was low and had they all been encountered, the chance of seeing them in that order is 1/64? Whatever the odds were, it happened and we saw all creatures in quick succession in the correct order. We all just looked at each other in amazement. Mother Nature decided to be kind? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After arriving in Kasane, and having dinner with Chloe and Lyndsay at an Indian restaurant, we headed to their homestay to crash for the night. In the malaria zone, the mosquito nets came out and we slept knowing that the following day was going to be big. A couple of hours later, at 5:30AM, we woke up and got ready for a long day of driving. As a got out of bed, I looked at the bed sheets and there was leopard faces on them that I hadn’t noticed the night before. I made a note of it to Is and we continued our preparation. Foreshadowing? We were at the parking lot where we were to meet Godfrey and sun still hadn’t come up. The peanut butter and bread came out and breakfast was had sitting on an edge in a parking lot. Godfrey pulled up at 6:30AM- exactly when we had planned to meet- in a land cruiser. Having been in the backs of open top safari cars for all of our previous game drives, the sight of the land cruiser was initially disappointing. Our fears were quelled when Godfrey told us that the roof was canvas and we would be allowed to stand with our heads out the window after we dropped our gear at the campsite. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So we got in, put all of our stuff in the back of the car and headed off. Godfrey had a bunch of books on the dashboard including Newman’s Bird Guide. We started driving towards CNP (Chobe National Park) and he talked to us about his background, family, and views on the tourism industry. We’ve had a number of guides in the past, but never have we met someone so unbelievably knowledgeable and passionate about the bush.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> A lot of guides talk like they’ve just memorized interesting facts and are just regurgitating them and there is nothing wrong with that. But with Godfrey, when he speaks, you can tell he speaks from experience. He started off in the army’s anti-poaching unit in the early nineties and lived the rough life going after poachers that wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him dead. He said his unit would spend 20 days or more patrolling on foot after being dropped off by helicopters. After leaving in 1996, he became a guide and opened Fun Fun Safaris after returning from the US in 2003. Godfrey or Bush Master as he appropriately calls himself is an expert in the bush. He’s a naturalist, a behavioralist, a tracker, and that makes him an incredible reader of the bush(He’s also very tech-savvy). He told us that after all the emailing and preparation, he thought we were “die-hards” and that coming from a man that spends most of his year in the bush, means a lot. He also said that the night before he had dreamt of lions and that it was a good omen. Was it ever…..</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our plan was to drive to our campsite, drop off our stuff, set up camp, grab a snack, and then head off for another 6 or so hours of driving in search of the big cats. It is required that all driving activity in the park stop at 6:30PM and so that was the time we had to retire back to our campsite. Im now going to start describing our actual trip and I just want you to know that these things don’t happen on every game drive or on most game drives. People go out on 10 or 20 day camping trips and not see one of the things we saw. It may seem “astonishing” to you readers, but just know that for us, it was “unreal” and hard to put into words. Here we go:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So we entered the park and headed down to the Chobe riverfront spotting the usual wildlife on the way. Out on the river plains, Godfrey spotted the Puku. No big deal. It’s the only place they are found with numbers approximating around 150. 10 minutes in, at around 7, and we already had a rare sighting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We pulled off of the Chobe Riverfront above the banks into a different habitat. Along the way, Godfrey had looked in the sand and seen leopard and jackal tracks and told us to keep an eye out.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> At around 7:45, there was an IMMENSE sighting. 3 wild dogs that had just taken down an impala minutes earlier were ripping it apart and swallowing chunks. Wild dogs are one of those complex predators that need more appreciation then they get. After chasing down medium-sized antelope in groups that work with a relay strategy, they disembowel their prey before it even hits the ground and apparently, it happens so fast that its painless. They then proceed to swallow chunks of the prey which are regurgitated upon return to the den for the youngest and elder members of the pack that cannot hunt.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> This was our first predatory kill sighting from all our trips and it was exciting and barbaric. The car’s top was still covered and so we were literally hanging out the windows taking pictures of the dogs that were about 70 meters away. They would occasionally look up with their faces all bloodied and then return to viciously tugging at the impala. To explain to you how special this was: they are the most endangered large predators with around 550 wild dogs in Botswana, the pack ranges can sometimes be as large as 600 square kilometers, and they don’t occur permanently in Chobe National Park. Pretty cool huh? It gets wayyy crazier. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bloody-faced wild dogs</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So all the time the wild dogs were tugging at the impala, white-back vultures were accumulating in numbers on the ground and on the trees. Out of nowhere, a huge Lappet-faced vulture landed and all of a sudden, our “incredible wild dogs kill” sighting just got a lot cooler. Lappet-faced vultures are ugly as anything but are so significant to the ecosystem. Their beaks are much stronger than other vultures’ and thus they can rip through carrion skin and eat tough parts that most others can’t. Another rare sighting (it was even tagged).</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXP2Wnn_kG-TxP6NOcPgV36smTmw1yDC0QJ4FPRqqMKjMVhSUSPoOMXc3dpPeiA702ILc6yz09sW_NyINv9b5P9GzQ7SUnF4H4V7T5gYcE5F6lOGuirewPEz3KYwDklENDbtrreoJDVd1_/s1600/DSC_0205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXP2Wnn_kG-TxP6NOcPgV36smTmw1yDC0QJ4FPRqqMKjMVhSUSPoOMXc3dpPeiA702ILc6yz09sW_NyINv9b5P9GzQ7SUnF4H4V7T5gYcE5F6lOGuirewPEz3KYwDklENDbtrreoJDVd1_/s400/DSC_0205.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lappet-faced vulture</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNMfyLhumCLnHnFSg1anTZ4zdXmRwN1y3fCQx698zDlV05XwsOVqJwsfcLK0y9-nPXPCD25uSbJiIJ8HAY-TgHrKB2U-rwM-aRj3u_4Ow9IRQpF4ZudYlWK71mp3-GgRf_3Y3ub_st1Rg/s1600/DSC_0158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNMfyLhumCLnHnFSg1anTZ4zdXmRwN1y3fCQx698zDlV05XwsOVqJwsfcLK0y9-nPXPCD25uSbJiIJ8HAY-TgHrKB2U-rwM-aRj3u_4Ow9IRQpF4ZudYlWK71mp3-GgRf_3Y3ub_st1Rg/s400/DSC_0158.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White-backed vultures swooping in</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then, the dogs just sort of scurried away and the vultures swooped in to the sight of the kill. It was short lived as in the distance, Godfrey pointed to a moving object. It was really well camouflaged and when I switched from looking through my viewfinder and using the naked-eye, it was hard to locate. But as it got closer, it became obvious that it was a massive leopard casually walking up to the kill. It grabbed the kill, and making use of its massive neck muscles, carried it away into the distance. This wasn’t without drama as it was pursued by two black-backed jackals. With the leopard out of sight, we drove away perplexed as to how all this had happened in the first hour of our day. Godfrey explained to us that this is how nature works. The wild dogs ate half of the impala, vultures had a bit, and then the leopard had his part. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LclUfij6A1RIkIDbbLCOqNOpb4dOnjA-RxHNardDMUxb5YW-QXR-HM01Bk4wwiNqLDgcShmyAVdqZHLB48n89gkA9V7SygCoNevJ-oRo2WjqTs2lC4HD56XaE_AfascZzOyFiiSrqWFE/s1600/DSC_0180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LclUfij6A1RIkIDbbLCOqNOpb4dOnjA-RxHNardDMUxb5YW-QXR-HM01Bk4wwiNqLDgcShmyAVdqZHLB48n89gkA9V7SygCoNevJ-oRo2WjqTs2lC4HD56XaE_AfascZzOyFiiSrqWFE/s400/DSC_0180.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Large leopard dragging the kill away probably to hide it in a tree</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Less then 20 minutes after leaving the leopard, at 8:30, there was another big sighting. We were about 200 meters from the Serondela picnic sight where we were to take a bathroom break when we joined a group of cars watching 2 lion cubs eat a baby elephant. The mother was lounging in the shade and according to Godfrey, she had probably taken down the elephant the night before as it seemed very fresh. It was strange because we had seen so many baby elephants on our trip to the Chobe National Park and its probable that this was one of them. But its life was giving way to more life and that’s just how it is. The were cute but savage at the same time. Hard to describe. Less than two hours in and we had seen everything we had come to see. We returned to the same sight throughout the day to see if anything new would happen but the same lion cubs and lioness kept their ground and guarded their kill. When we first saw the kill, you could tell it was an elephant and not a lot of it was missing. Later, we saw one of the cubs tugging at the elephant’s trunk, and on another occasion, all three playing tug-of-war with its guts. Absolutely brutal. When we returned the morning after, there was not much of the elephant left. The lions seemed nice and fat though. Godfrey’s dream had come true. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjc9rnM6FOmqZ-KmEWnKnyrAg31mq7THGW_cUiSfoLRkpIncgl3O8oE7OGNV-qguMjgItCIgvGZDjbUuuFjXYBElfWq8BIH9TbxWgL_XF4WuPZe_gRzLebQqZ0h7lIQBS2kTPBQIM-3wN/s1600/DSC_0700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjc9rnM6FOmqZ-KmEWnKnyrAg31mq7THGW_cUiSfoLRkpIncgl3O8oE7OGNV-qguMjgItCIgvGZDjbUuuFjXYBElfWq8BIH9TbxWgL_XF4WuPZe_gRzLebQqZ0h7lIQBS2kTPBQIM-3wN/s400/DSC_0700.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">lioness and two cubs playing with their food</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">An hour and a half later, at around 10, after watching a herd of elephants and bull buffalos, we wandered down to the river where Godfrey spotted lion spoor in the sand. Earlier he had said that to be a good guide, you had to follow the tracks and work hard, and he was so right. Throughout the day he had stopped and looked at the sand to look for tracks and whenever he had, we had seen something. We drove down to the riverfront and there we saw about 7 lions of all ages (including a young male) lounging in the bush. As we watched, they were joined by 2 more, and then everyone got up and moved away. Having caught our glimpse, we headed for our campsite. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgav1q_dXEJ2bQQS8cPI9UenXr2L1gi-JEkg3T6q4BZ03xFZmj6KQ41RIee3GXJar3fzLO0x1gD38SJDVdCQSJNPeTJTEoVthZVldjlDSijTQxwGvGDok7cLYIP0_i0_VJv-h3j4j3k7q2Z/s1600/DSC_0356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgav1q_dXEJ2bQQS8cPI9UenXr2L1gi-JEkg3T6q4BZ03xFZmj6KQ41RIee3GXJar3fzLO0x1gD38SJDVdCQSJNPeTJTEoVthZVldjlDSijTQxwGvGDok7cLYIP0_i0_VJv-h3j4j3k7q2Z/s400/DSC_0356.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">large cape-buffalo</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">BOGA 5, the private campsite reserved for local guides registered with the Botswana Guiding Association, was nothing more than a placard labeled BOGA 5. There was thick sand all around as well as a troop of baboons. No water, no fence, no nothing. Absolute wilderness. The only thing that made it a campsite was the sign that said BOGA 5. That is it. No one else except baboons around for at least a kilometer in any direction. Godfrey designed us a bush toilet which was nothing more than a hole dug in sand. He said where most places have long drop toilets, we had a short drop.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6Msq7HSvVZqvT8yXsUcuWh2ZNOenwtyPXeiry1TR-R38JG8FLuOVUhMjar6wMJJEBdcda_G0FpvTVrxpEjFqjqPcbfVA3bQegoG735-LpJEPKJjcSGCE0QtNhpQtsX-zeFLJD7vd3mlm/s1600/DSC_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6Msq7HSvVZqvT8yXsUcuWh2ZNOenwtyPXeiry1TR-R38JG8FLuOVUhMjar6wMJJEBdcda_G0FpvTVrxpEjFqjqPcbfVA3bQegoG735-LpJEPKJjcSGCE0QtNhpQtsX-zeFLJD7vd3mlm/s400/DSC_0340.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">hiding under the mama</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXYlsQLeW1TeYe65Rm5mh3UTjVDgCx00s3cW8oPDPRMjMursUeIqwHUHXs06S0ScFftyCkt_a5dwP85gwvJFVg9TbP6WNlpz3akRygqRNsHbNV42VLD6zlskdDWVSjtt6M_zt4c1FyWN1/s1600/DSC_0649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXYlsQLeW1TeYe65Rm5mh3UTjVDgCx00s3cW8oPDPRMjMursUeIqwHUHXs06S0ScFftyCkt_a5dwP85gwvJFVg9TbP6WNlpz3akRygqRNsHbNV42VLD6zlskdDWVSjtt6M_zt4c1FyWN1/s400/DSC_0649.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Baby loving the mud. Elephants lather themselves with mud to protect their skin and absorb minerals</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">We headed out again at 12PM and spent most of the afternoon watching the grazers cross the water by which we also saw an incredible variety of birdlife. Occasionally, we returned to the baby elephant and take a look at the lions though because of the rush of cars, we never stuck around for long. Godfrey said that it wasn’t good that people crowded around the kill because it made it unnatural when the animals were so aware of people that they would look up. He said it was best to stick around for a couple of minutes and then drive on and let the animals do their business and because of that mentality, I have so much respect for the Bush Master. We also returned to the sight where we had seen the pride of lions down by the water. They were quite the lazy bunch sleeping in the bush but Godfrey noted that they looked skinny. We just didn’t think of it much up until around 4:45PM. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Throughout the day, we’d get amazing facts and information from Godfrey about everything in the bush. Everything from the significance of termite mounds, to the tufts on the giraffe’s horns, to the black hairs on the impala’s legs, to the stomach acids of crocodiles, to the communication technique amongst acacia trees to avoid getting eaten by giraffes and much more. We got the etymology of the latin names of species and learnt things that most books probably wouldn’t publish.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At 4:45 PM,</span><span style="font-size: small;"> we wandered down to where we had spotted the 9 lions, parked our car, jumped on top of the car and just relaxed. Godfrey said that they would have to come down to the water to drink at some point and so we would wait and see what they would do. We would “think like the lions”. He had this whole tactic where he parked the vehicle a little bit further down then where he thought they would come out and he watched the area through his side mirror. On one side were open plains with a large herd of impala and on the other was dense bush. We were straddling the boundary and had a clear view of both. Other cars would stop by us and guides would ask Godfrey why we were so happy even though we were watching impala. Man, after our morning, we were eternally happy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At around 5:30, Godfrey’s predictions came true and it was just weird how accurate they were. The same pride of lions roamed in behind us and lurked in the shadows of the bush. Godfrey said he had seen a number of kills in the same area and with the animals looking skinny, something would happen. All the lions, from the cubs to the young male, were yawning continuously and that usually means a change in energy levels in creatures as in when a lion is going to sleep, when it is getting up, or when it is about to hunt. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkU4fkD9k5xZVzzRKDo_zyiZ4BJe2iIE84YIxEdVpLSOQJjYDevVnRKyfnDDU0G_0fiAYGuM09ah6nFnn5KPFnxy9sjtbufn-NaK1gbKHFyajIOb6egMWfZrPQjWaLEznkB40d5OwjGfBV/s1600/DSC_0738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkU4fkD9k5xZVzzRKDo_zyiZ4BJe2iIE84YIxEdVpLSOQJjYDevVnRKyfnDDU0G_0fiAYGuM09ah6nFnn5KPFnxy9sjtbufn-NaK1gbKHFyajIOb6egMWfZrPQjWaLEznkB40d5OwjGfBV/s400/DSC_0738.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">part of the family</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuIaSLIwIvo938GhXM9r-BeDkH8AWSo2difV1lnJDfhQxuKw6qYwRVd3nk5kAPaabwaViok5Nf3THMYZeh0ah-NiayfZtKFOMm_RtreDbkC1CXse1rfe1YtQwy0jE2dBlVws0VCBdJ_WJ/s1600/DSC_0759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuIaSLIwIvo938GhXM9r-BeDkH8AWSo2difV1lnJDfhQxuKw6qYwRVd3nk5kAPaabwaViok5Nf3THMYZeh0ah-NiayfZtKFOMm_RtreDbkC1CXse1rfe1YtQwy0jE2dBlVws0VCBdJ_WJ/s640/DSC_0759.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Golden-Eyes". Just looking at this scares me a little</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the lionesses got up and walked through the bush making sure not to come out in the open. Another followed. Godfrey was familiar with this pride as he picked out the “Old Mama” who was blind in one eye as the result of multiple anthrax attacks. All of a sudden, the impala’s sounded an alarm and ran onto the plains. Old Mama and the young male (he didn’t have a full mane but was by far the largest) got up and crept forward with their eyes focused on the impala herd. When you see all their ripped muscles, golden-eyes focused on a target, moving surreptitiously through the bush, it instills this instinctive fear in you. The golden eyes themselves were enough to bring fear. The lions, with the herd still far away and aware of the danger, just lay down as flat as they could. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9SSlanfY8a_BGx66t5D9ZHqEo9eYcbdu2iWcW6XqWkqxyf7V9soZ0VXYdUrouheiinD2lPvb9e11dQAKYCSQ_9_YPLR9AftTKpu5w9RnkPF1PuraAMOu_GoTfxB0dDVqGoGYBuTnpDuE7/s1600/DSC_0758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9SSlanfY8a_BGx66t5D9ZHqEo9eYcbdu2iWcW6XqWkqxyf7V9soZ0VXYdUrouheiinD2lPvb9e11dQAKYCSQ_9_YPLR9AftTKpu5w9RnkPF1PuraAMOu_GoTfxB0dDVqGoGYBuTnpDuE7/s400/DSC_0758.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Young male yawning</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then out of nowhere, a one-horned male impala, quite possibly the dominant male, bounded from the herd and bee-lined for our car. He then turned towards the bush and just as he was reacting to the sight of the 2 waiting lions, they jumped him with such ferocity that we were all just left trembling. Like this instinctive fear that I cannot describe. I think I might have let out a whimper. There was a plume of dust and all of a sudden, all 9 lions were digging into this poor Impala. Its legs were up in the air but it made no sound. There was no room for sound. All we heard was vicious growls and roaring from the lions as they literally ripped this Impala apart. Man I tell you, its one thing to watch it in a documentary, but it’s a whole new level when everything happens meters in front of you. We all thought it was a dumb impala but Godfrey attributed everything to the hunting tactics of the lions. In 30 minutes, with their faces all bloodied, the scene quieted down and there was very little left of the Impala. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSZ1XOSmxqfO_Ri-EXDv1N-lJWD2klXjPIo4NmBmP1eHB6G1YUhPHrGghioQsRxMn7r67RxxaPIcX9VFQBRdxbFK8PRLLyddd35azjCfBcuzlgOYaa-mEjvRmF9dNxMhljK4DCbvkDGGm/s1600/DSC_0775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSZ1XOSmxqfO_Ri-EXDv1N-lJWD2klXjPIo4NmBmP1eHB6G1YUhPHrGghioQsRxMn7r67RxxaPIcX9VFQBRdxbFK8PRLLyddd35azjCfBcuzlgOYaa-mEjvRmF9dNxMhljK4DCbvkDGGm/s400/DSC_0775.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The poor one-horned impala just before he got owned. 3 seconds later he was in the jaws of a beast</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjip7cQdtiM64i-3mllhmtfyEA3SvqFmp1S9ejRwEpPzVwkYI-RPShF8XWbwM9bjQ4aaliydKvLI_C4oCvFNnzNFORSOtcRgrUE8o_jv4eQfCWPQxnb_MKIk3SEP6a1vmm-NB8mrs-Y-2_S/s1600/DSC_0849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjip7cQdtiM64i-3mllhmtfyEA3SvqFmp1S9ejRwEpPzVwkYI-RPShF8XWbwM9bjQ4aaliydKvLI_C4oCvFNnzNFORSOtcRgrUE8o_jv4eQfCWPQxnb_MKIk3SEP6a1vmm-NB8mrs-Y-2_S/s400/DSC_0849.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5 minutes later, same impala</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9X-tGhOohZIQ-3UNKalVtEwe1U9Ps1lUc761kBS-R5CPFf-2eIprmgZT-TAbsFfxzYcrsEFLnOiZJEN5ITyMiaVKgwaRTvc4yV05CzBRS1tHjHL8x__dlpLcAyo02j5Tifhg0A0HEJXZD/s1600/DSC_0864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9X-tGhOohZIQ-3UNKalVtEwe1U9Ps1lUc761kBS-R5CPFf-2eIprmgZT-TAbsFfxzYcrsEFLnOiZJEN5ITyMiaVKgwaRTvc4yV05CzBRS1tHjHL8x__dlpLcAyo02j5Tifhg0A0HEJXZD/s400/DSC_0864.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You gotta know your place in the pride</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Impalas however are more of a snack than a proper meal. So, a lioness wandered down the water, had a drink and then proceeded to watch as a massive herd of buffalo crossed from the bush onto the plains. The majority of the hundreds strong herd had crossed which left the back 50 for the lion’s eyes. The weakest of the herd are kept at the back and you could see the lioness sizing up the calves and the elderly. But, the sun had gone down and the time came for us to return to our campsite, which was probably 2 km from where we had been watching the lions. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPZasC3eZvu7fJtZijX8aisXnl1rxEODOfSMUvn5Y0iQNluMnYq7kp3X2D6lG4IHgQs4HRDnkNtHGN_cIVUGtLX3cd3fhprNXR8ltxJykbzA_Jm8MvL4D0z1uSkVeg5HQDUFRNBAtaPxv/s1600/DSC_0922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPZasC3eZvu7fJtZijX8aisXnl1rxEODOfSMUvn5Y0iQNluMnYq7kp3X2D6lG4IHgQs4HRDnkNtHGN_cIVUGtLX3cd3fhprNXR8ltxJykbzA_Jm8MvL4D0z1uSkVeg5HQDUFRNBAtaPxv/s400/DSC_0922.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Buffalo crossing onto the plains </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu7gwDA5NQwPVWsHZ7dxr69sdKIGbFmwSEk_sctoqyamzviY2gwsFiacgEZeMd6dWXIIOrPcSELR-VZKf8U0yRUzTjiPzn612Y4kWTPu4AqpomJwOjMUu1iUieZ6OijZFML2x2QSyl1lL1/s1600/DSC_1093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu7gwDA5NQwPVWsHZ7dxr69sdKIGbFmwSEk_sctoqyamzviY2gwsFiacgEZeMd6dWXIIOrPcSELR-VZKf8U0yRUzTjiPzn612Y4kWTPu4AqpomJwOjMUu1iUieZ6OijZFML2x2QSyl1lL1/s640/DSC_1093.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sizing up her next meal</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We returned to our campsite buzzing with our newfound luck. Godfrey has been guiding for a number of years and had said he had never had a day like this one. He said we should all buy lottery tickets upon our return to Canada. Though im sure we got lucky on a number of occasions, there is no way we would have seen half the things we would have seen, especially not the lion hunt, had Godfrey not been our guide. It was his skill, his own luck and intuition, and some of ours, that made for what had been the most spectacular game drive day EVER. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vq94RCH25dsuP72-RIXxDJoVE42CsGTG6QW3a9tfahhOWS9xk-eruq-8QmLtQvxxA5CEsxsz3CjU9RYAA8mXEWR8KJ6PIQnUQdslVa8wT9zAoyJfkRfr2T_0I4nubsp9Idk6CNpHsdFM/s1600/DSC_1105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vq94RCH25dsuP72-RIXxDJoVE42CsGTG6QW3a9tfahhOWS9xk-eruq-8QmLtQvxxA5CEsxsz3CjU9RYAA8mXEWR8KJ6PIQnUQdslVa8wT9zAoyJfkRfr2T_0I4nubsp9Idk6CNpHsdFM/s400/DSC_1105.JPG" width="307" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Roosting white-backed vultures</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We spent our night sitting around the campfire listening to Godfrey’s stories and admiring his passion for nature. He is one hell of a person and definitely an inspiration. Not to mention well-known. Coincidentally, he is related to Chloe and Lyndsay’s host mom, is friends with their boss at work, and also knows my hosts from when they lived in Kasane. We talked about the energies of nature and how animals could sense things much better than we could and it was so nice to talk to someone who was genuinely in love with the Bush and not guiding for the money. Godfrey said guiding was his dream and that his job was his dream and it was just great to see that he was living his dream. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At one point, a honey badger, considered to be the most fearless creature on the planet, decided to roam by our campsite and give us a look. Occasionally there would be the sounds of hyena and zebra not far from our campsite but Im sure they saw us as more of a threat. Especially when we were singing. We retired to bed at around 11 after being briefed on animal safety. Godfrey said that if there was something close to our tent, it was probably a honey badger. If it was loud sounds, it was most likely elephants and they were aware of our presence. We were told to always look out before leaving the tent and not to wander past the “toilet” because then we were fair game for all the predators including the “golden-eyes”. With all that said and done, we crawled into our sleeping bags exhausted by the awesomeness of the day. Our plan was to leave our sight by 6AM so that maybe we could see hyenas on the baby elephant. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I woke up sometime early in the morning to the sounds of rustling leaves and twigs breaking under some immense weight. I’m usually the deepest sleeper and so me being woken by animal sounds meant that they were loud. Chloe described it as a thunderstorm. There happened to be a herd of elephants just roaming through our campsite. They were so close that I actually heard one fart. It sounds like a deep bubbling sound. We then heard more rustling but it turned out it was just Godfrey getting up from bed. I was then notified by Thomas that the honey badger had returned to the campsite sometime in the night. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With only 3 hours before we had to leave the park, we quickly set out to look for the lions down by the riverfront only to find a huge obstacle in our path. A young elephant was sleeping with his/her legs sprawled across the our path. Its funny that when elephants sleep, they look so much like humans. They lie down fully on their side, curl their front legs up to their chest like we curl our arms, and open their mouths to breath easy. This being had no care in the world that we were waiting for him/her to wake up. The elephant would just breath deeply and close its eyes. After about 15 minutes, Godfrey tried to inch closer and it just leapt up all confused as if we had snapped it out of a deep dream. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The big pride of lions was no where to be found so we went to the baby elephant where the lion cubs were still eating away though there was so much meat gone that had we not seen it a day earlier, we wouldn’t have been able to call it an elephant. Its crazy how much the lions ate in 24 hours. With the crowd building again with the influx of “daytrip” tourists, we headed on our way. As we were driving towards the exit, all the guides stopped Godfrey and told him that there was a leopard in some certain area. What I really liked about Godfrey was that he was never in a rush. If things happened, they happened. If they didn’t, they didn’t. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We arrived at the leopard but only saw a ton of cars almost surrounding dense patch of bush where the leopard apparently was. I felt a little bad because there were just so many cars (probably 8) and we were as much of the problem as anyone else there. But Godfrey pulled up to a spot further away from the tree and said that the leopard would cross in front of us. We didn’t even know it was there because of its camouflage coat until we saw a fresh piece of impala fall out of the tree. Then, it descended from the tree not more than 10 meters in front of us and disappeared in the bush after turning to give us a look. After a couple of minutes, it reemerged followed by a cub and crossed our car JUST like Godfrey had said it would. It proceed to pose as it called for its cub to follow him. It was a sound that I wouldn’t associate with a leopard. Very coarse and un-cat-like. And then they both just disappeared into the distance. What a way for Chobe National Park to say goodbye to us on our very last game drive in Botswana. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbuOoKJD-qZs21TDGLWYTUbZ6Mtc6IUj4PjDw85Rq5m1gdKNwKy-uPmTf1Yy1zmcD5WyIXYplUPhHvY3huDn63Syc4_BcXx-IlR8nosKvvhyphenhyphen1aKlNt_f36VyoRRvWn_8DW8PYEICs5Fws/s1600/DSC_1156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbuOoKJD-qZs21TDGLWYTUbZ6Mtc6IUj4PjDw85Rq5m1gdKNwKy-uPmTf1Yy1zmcD5WyIXYplUPhHvY3huDn63Syc4_BcXx-IlR8nosKvvhyphenhyphen1aKlNt_f36VyoRRvWn_8DW8PYEICs5Fws/s640/DSC_1156.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">posing for the camera</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34kHlViWDiF_5wlWtma1mDCohC0Y398ro3rO-6fk62wgmLVvoJyq1Jq7J1H_mN3jfA5MIAW2Hfz-zvkoYI8ro6h0rnPnY7xMUZ_xyn586_DGT3_paz2ETDE_aHL3e8q3_2xsYQNY1UbN9/s1600/DSC_1164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34kHlViWDiF_5wlWtma1mDCohC0Y398ro3rO-6fk62wgmLVvoJyq1Jq7J1H_mN3jfA5MIAW2Hfz-zvkoYI8ro6h0rnPnY7xMUZ_xyn586_DGT3_paz2ETDE_aHL3e8q3_2xsYQNY1UbN9/s400/DSC_1164.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">and again</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuY92vSOFil9cGU7-PPVCC0L-gUFY8pacx2yAELE5xX1hU2jlPndzsT4-je6qNhGsNA6YcbL9E8u_vx96BdmNhCLd2PDzSzVtgOzVJ2uNDrBSAVKuBWcg3hyphenhyphenumHwgSRAlWGwg8w9m_bnz/s1600/DSC_1168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuY92vSOFil9cGU7-PPVCC0L-gUFY8pacx2yAELE5xX1hU2jlPndzsT4-je6qNhGsNA6YcbL9E8u_vx96BdmNhCLd2PDzSzVtgOzVJ2uNDrBSAVKuBWcg3hyphenhyphenumHwgSRAlWGwg8w9m_bnz/s400/DSC_1168.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mama and her cub</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">By 9 we were out of the park, and by 7PM we were back in the Ghetto. All in all, this has easily been the luckiest weekend of my life. It was just strange how lucky we got. People actually go looking for leopards and not see them on 10 day excursions. We saw 3 leopards, 3 wild dogs, and 13 lions on 4 different kills in 24 hours. Not to mention Roan antelope, Puku, Lappet-faced vultures, giraffes play-fighting, baby elephants playing in the mud, elephants sleeping, and the unreal scenery. National Geographic should hire us Id say. They take weeks to film their scenes. We can do it in a day with our luck. A big thank you to Godfrey Mbeha for taking us on this trip, sharing his knowledge about the bush with us, and making sure we achieved and surpassed our goal. The Bush Family forever. Ma-Naga. (Godfrey if your reading this, I was being very serious when I asked you if you’d mentor me when I came back for my guiding license. See you soon Bush Master). </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMyT16oPM08Vux8b_Iu42CJJLsBhARtCNuUyW6CikLAN7Mtz1vJo023VSXmFCJ_fvZe0-xxCXB-dX6PJRNDoYGxHGLyZNkxpjEVpr2QlM7IS9T8nq71F86LI8aDbogKpMkI-HZ6U6Rc0q/s1600/287113_2050309911911_1669380456_32222290_5152976_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMyT16oPM08Vux8b_Iu42CJJLsBhARtCNuUyW6CikLAN7Mtz1vJo023VSXmFCJ_fvZe0-xxCXB-dX6PJRNDoYGxHGLyZNkxpjEVpr2QlM7IS9T8nq71F86LI8aDbogKpMkI-HZ6U6Rc0q/s320/287113_2050309911911_1669380456_32222290_5152976_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ma Naga </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-86997412803060689912011-08-09T23:20:00.000-07:002011-08-12T02:34:19.612-07:00Weekend in Gabs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For the weekend of July 29<sup>th</sup>-July 31<sup>st</sup>, Thomas and I headed to the capital city of Gaborone while Is joined the Kasane girls for a trip to the Caprivi Strip in Namibia. Along with our usual motives of just exploring a new location, there was some QPID business to attend to in the form of project identification with development organizations.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our journey started off on the wrong foot. After finishing up work at 1PM, we headed to Thomas’ house to get the car. With a 6-hour drive ahead of us, we were in a rush and didn’t have time for impediments. Driving at night is quite hazardous with single-lane highways and all the animals roaming this country. Time and time again I’ve heard of deadly accidents on the roads here. Just a couple of weeks ago, my host sister was heading back to Gabs when her car was involved in an accident because a giraffe that was being chased by hunters had come in front of the car. So, Thomas went to start the car and nothing happened. We had returned the car to Mots on an empty tank and initially thought that was not enough gas in the tank. With no choice but to go fetch fuel from the closest gas station, we grabbed our bags and set out on foot, obviously stressed from the fact that time was of the essence. As we were walking by a house, a man said hello and asked us where we were heading. We told him that we were going to go get petrol from the gas station and he said he’d take us after he moved all his boxes from his car to his home. Joyful at this stranger’s kindness, we helped him move the boxes to his house. Before Thomas picked up a box, he turned to me and said “man this guy is an angel”. He then grabbed a box, looked down at it, and then looked at me with a look of shock, surprise, and bewilderment. The box was labeled “Angel Cosmetics” with the “angel” a lot more prominent than the “cosmetics”. We broke out in smiles from the coincidence and strangeness of the entire situation and continued with our task. The man took us to the nearest gas station (which would have been an easy hour walk) and dropped us off to the house. We were resourceful enough to cut a bottle to use as a funnel and funneled the fuel into the tank. The car, however, still wouldn’t turn on and so we popped the hood and proceeded to play around with the battery and after about 20 mins, we had ignition. All along, the battery cable had been loose and just required some shaking to engage. Finally, at 3PM, we were off. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">To cover the cost of the car, Thomas and I decided to fill our backseats with fare paying hitchhikers. Yes. Gasp! We picked up hitchhikers. I’ve said this before but hitchhiking is part of life here and without it, you can’t get around. So many times we’ve depended on people letting us into their cars and it was only appropriate for us to allow hitchhikers into ours. Its not sketchy here like it is North America or anywhere else in the world. Last time we hosted hitchhikers on our way back from Tuli Block, we all assigned each other personalities, which we kept throughout the drive. I was Raj, the Indian cardiologist working with Doctors Without Borders. Thomas was Esteban the South African chicken farmer whose accent was the way it was because he had studied and worked in the UK and Australia. And then there was Is, or Floral Sunshine. Floral was a hippie in love with the Earth and didn’t get along very well with Raj the cardiologist. This time around, we decided to be ourselves with the hitchhikers for the sake of keeping our sanity. The drive was grueling and stressful, especially for our awesome driver Thomas, but he was awesome and we arrived in Gabs at around 10PM. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Though F/town is considered the Ghetto, we were 10 times more scared driving through Gabs than we have ever been in F/town. I had seen on the news the day earlier that thieves would hide in bushes behind bus stops and do their deeds on unsuspecting citizens. Mots had told Thomas not to stop at red lights because thieves could come out of nowhere. Basically, we were on edge. Gabs itself is a very spread out city and so after 20 minutes of driving, we retired to our accommodation. We stopped at the Mokolodi Backpackers but the only space they had was for $80 a night. In an effort to conserve our money and be adventurous, we decided to sleep in the car. We found a dark empty plot of land that was walled off and pulled deep in and turned off the lights. Our dinner consisted of short-bread cookies and milo for me and chips ahoy and milk for Thomas. With the wall on one side, dense bush on the other, and absolutely no lights, it was nervy. We both slept very uneasy, frequently waking up to look around. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At 6AM, before the sun came up, we decided to leave and find breakfast so that we wouldn’t be spotted being all sketchy. We found it at the Southern African equivalent of McDonalds called Wimpy. We then rushed to the Mokolodi Nature Reserve for a meeting with the Education Director and 2 cheetahs. Mokolodi Nature Reserve is a private educational reserve located just out of Gabs focused on enlightening the youth and rehabilitating injured or ill wildlife. It currently is part of the Rhino Breeding Program with 7 White Rhinos and also houses offices for the Tusk Trust, and Cheetah Conservation Botswana. We first drove for about 40 minutes through the reserve sitting next to the CEO of the Botswana Telecom Company who was also visiting the cheetahs. The enclosure was fenced off from the rest of the reserve and we past 2 gates before we saw feathers littering the ground and the cheetahs just getting some sun. Apparently there was a brief safety lesson in which the guides warned that we weren’t supposed to make yourself look small in front of the cheetahs, not to kneel or sit next to them, and not to pet them anywhere but the head. I heard none of that. Thomas and I jumped out of the truck and rushed to one of the Cheetahs and stood in absolute awe. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPiE3CoBp1mwFTlgIkGjTM1QcaDUZLKeN9iEt2dxtX6FKOnKnhaDwHbqY71zz3llgpe_nv8WXdkXXoG6GHVVmyEA4gkg1ubJov4OW98l6BoIt4HHc5-2mYhh-eUHG9GsuN__027AVdoy6/s1600/DSC_0116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPiE3CoBp1mwFTlgIkGjTM1QcaDUZLKeN9iEt2dxtX6FKOnKnhaDwHbqY71zz3llgpe_nv8WXdkXXoG6GHVVmyEA4gkg1ubJov4OW98l6BoIt4HHc5-2mYhh-eUHG9GsuN__027AVdoy6/s640/DSC_0116.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Read this</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEWWXTxUIA4Nbzty_iP3U-M9c0ug-579s9tY7n5Ovhc9iTTvS9jRmojhq9cv7fgk2BxA6V9x6DB7P3_4BqBID1536jtcvaVqcGeJ5bDjVj5twV8_5yjg8KsloRauETSx8DPS9xS3hjZki/s1600/073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEWWXTxUIA4Nbzty_iP3U-M9c0ug-579s9tY7n5Ovhc9iTTvS9jRmojhq9cv7fgk2BxA6V9x6DB7P3_4BqBID1536jtcvaVqcGeJ5bDjVj5twV8_5yjg8KsloRauETSx8DPS9xS3hjZki/s400/073.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Thomas Parente</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Duma was the first to get his head rubbed and I was obviously the first to jump on the opportunity. His fur was a lot softer than I thought it would be and he was basically a mega house cat. Sitting in the sun, getting his head scratched, purring like mad. One thing about the purr is that it sounds like a motorcycle. His entire throat was visibly vibrating and just being next to such a beast was just weird. You could tell that he enjoyed the company. As the rest of the group admired Duma, Thomas and I wandered over to Letoatse and sat with him for some time. His coat was much lighter than Duma but he was just as big. As the group of 7 others came to Letoatse, we went back to Duma and rubbed his head a little more. The guides told us that he was getting impatient which was total bs because after we took 2 steps back, Duma got up, stretched, and walked right to us and sat down again. After 15 or so minutes, it was time to leave. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsmg_Jdvvl2SyQxQ5p66F4SO90asxKknEptklINWTPZ7PLnlJIw6d5Or5Z_YshgtEj2zwFl0Szoicxhm5HvbBVg7iTQDK2bOtbwVIIDvlYiTgFZOeXf6yxve_CLHTmskjZghQN6t57Pv6/s1600/DSC_0097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsmg_Jdvvl2SyQxQ5p66F4SO90asxKknEptklINWTPZ7PLnlJIw6d5Or5Z_YshgtEj2zwFl0Szoicxhm5HvbBVg7iTQDK2bOtbwVIIDvlYiTgFZOeXf6yxve_CLHTmskjZghQN6t57Pv6/s400/DSC_0097.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duma </td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYef4Os_4mPD8HBNTq8F9pBU1-kOTsz5xhGLrSZhhU_YkvN5KQcVJSvITBjFWgS9AuU5J37xt1eZhCkhdXrm_24w07S7jhDb_WOup1cBBMAW1SOkQ1QAsTpbhOplQwmXJ1EZbo-vkOEaL/s1600/DSC_0083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYef4Os_4mPD8HBNTq8F9pBU1-kOTsz5xhGLrSZhhU_YkvN5KQcVJSvITBjFWgS9AuU5J37xt1eZhCkhdXrm_24w07S7jhDb_WOup1cBBMAW1SOkQ1QAsTpbhOplQwmXJ1EZbo-vkOEaL/s640/DSC_0083.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duma's tear</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We headed back to the reception where we met the Education Director of the Mokolodi Education Center and discussed business. After, Thomas and I snooped around the sanctuary where injured and rehab animals were kept. There was a HUGE Martial Eagle (Africa’s largest raptor) with a broken wing that stood probably 3 feet tall, 2 crippled vultures, a blue heron, and 2 problem vervet monkeys. The monkeys were ACTUALLY problematic creatures. I had just bought a really nice postcard from the curio shop and put it on the wire mesh while I was photographing the restless monkeys. The smaller one ran up to my postcard, grabbed it, pulled it through, and sat on a tree holding my card. He then proceeded to rip it in half, drop one side to the ground, and lick the other. I haven’t found nice postcards since. What to do. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VekyjPYOr76PSaTNZRGx0P0dY819MsUI3-gn9Vux6KNl_SvU-klLFruDw8SSceNvRtR4q3AF1g6OaAnMA39q2dVTqEWt8uIVYhUuDmm9J0PEJ8cwKfVGZn-YHZDeEj-okqAFnLyyT_tL/s1600/DSC_0147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VekyjPYOr76PSaTNZRGx0P0dY819MsUI3-gn9Vux6KNl_SvU-klLFruDw8SSceNvRtR4q3AF1g6OaAnMA39q2dVTqEWt8uIVYhUuDmm9J0PEJ8cwKfVGZn-YHZDeEj-okqAFnLyyT_tL/s400/DSC_0147.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheeky little monkey</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtVRAMdtPEivQX22G7ikrsfUtFZKa61hyHwsPaDFSnZpR3e8Xa9laTMODwOiTqyWkTiMcHJkFQM6XCLp0Hvdfs6NXOtoKMrUzKbKUiXwQi2B9QBXjHWQTPlFuHBiYRpOTaaF-EUztG9vQ/s1600/DSC_0151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtVRAMdtPEivQX22G7ikrsfUtFZKa61hyHwsPaDFSnZpR3e8Xa9laTMODwOiTqyWkTiMcHJkFQM6XCLp0Hvdfs6NXOtoKMrUzKbKUiXwQi2B9QBXjHWQTPlFuHBiYRpOTaaF-EUztG9vQ/s400/DSC_0151.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thomas and I then explored the city, which was wayyyy too busy and chaotic for our liking. It only has a population of 300,000 or so but it was too much for us. We secured tent accommodation at the Mokolodi Backpackers and decided that it was best to get rest after getting little rest the night before. The place was so luxurious compared to any other place we had pitched a tent. The tent had 2 mattresses with a lamp and we were handed hot water bottles to keep us warm. The night was spent chitchatting around the fire with 2 lovely ladies from Norwich University studying medicine and a Dutch gentleman just completing a short volunteering trip. Coincidently, the same ladies had been at the Old Bridge Backpackers in Maun while we were there. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaiG2ePuIet6vtNPsp4cekOJor9Wk1hEoKpq8w1OB7DsU3z8hv9HinH73VRtrbOm9CqCiEEHRdYsK6yvHTybIiR-30skR51SDLARNNfXQlyxUnpLL_lRFZud0khbRu77cU0JoyuyACkUE/s1600/DSC_0216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaiG2ePuIet6vtNPsp4cekOJor9Wk1hEoKpq8w1OB7DsU3z8hv9HinH73VRtrbOm9CqCiEEHRdYsK6yvHTybIiR-30skR51SDLARNNfXQlyxUnpLL_lRFZud0khbRu77cU0JoyuyACkUE/s400/DSC_0216.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luxury camping</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well rested, we woke up early, and played around with the resident Great Danes. His USB fell out of his pocket onto the ground and it was only appropriate punishment for laughing at my postcard situation the day earlier that his USB was munched upon by a huge pot-bellied pig. Somehow it still works. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXmlNOkK0fDbW6kZB6bFU5dIxpfDGVc5lAsW0u1kRueuihpJTabFcwIzhXqBZkMfNSEXl0UR7QalJTh6OwZY4wRwToZr2T2NhWFtPUhit5iDQgvFhC5iQdTgUvWWVnhyphenhypheneTnnEWqSDv7eG/s1600/DSC_0232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXmlNOkK0fDbW6kZB6bFU5dIxpfDGVc5lAsW0u1kRueuihpJTabFcwIzhXqBZkMfNSEXl0UR7QalJTh6OwZY4wRwToZr2T2NhWFtPUhit5iDQgvFhC5iQdTgUvWWVnhyphenhypheneTnnEWqSDv7eG/s400/DSC_0232.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas playing with the Great Danes</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We said our goodbyes and headed to the 2011 Botswana Consumer Fair at the fairgrounds. Here we met with a number of organizations, and discussed current affairs with the various government departments that were present. In the end, I got a ton of insight into the country in the 5 hours we were there. Best conversations were had with an official from the Department of Wildlife and National Parks responsible for approving game hunting licenses and a representative from the Department of Mining Affairs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We picked up 3 more hitchhikers and headed back to Francistown hoping to be home before dark. As we took a short break in Palapye, a peer educator from True Men approached us and asked us we had space in our car. Luckily we had 2 spots and so the rest of the ride involved deep discussion about HIV/AIDS with the peer educator and a Zimbabwean bus driver. Again, we learnt a lot more from them than we had when we were doing our own research on the social issues in Botswana associated with HIV/AIDS. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;">Home Sweet Home. Back in the Ghetto, we waited at the bus rank for Is who was on her way back from Namibia. Heading home, we shared stories and if you want to read more about her experience read here: <a href="http://wanderingis.blogspot.com/">http://wanderingis.blogspot.com/</a> . As a short reflection on our weekend in Gabs, we did a ton of cool stuff, but I would never want to be a cooperant doing a project there.</span> </div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-25147799004986026072011-08-09T06:45:00.000-07:002011-08-09T07:15:07.995-07:00Football in Bots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Football (soccer) is big here. Like really big. More people wear Chelsea, Man U, and Italy jerseys than traditional clothing. The Zebras, Botswana’s National Team, were one of the first teams to qualify the 2012 African Cup of Nations and they are very well respected. Botswana has its own league but the South African league is also very popular, especially the Kaizer Chiefs. The Kaizer Chiefs regularly have advertisements on primetime TV for their Kaizer Chief Funeral Plan. Probably for the die-hard supporters. All I know is that football runs in the blood here. The Ghetto has a multitude of dirt football fields that are constantly packed with players. The goal posts are made of 3 pieces of straight wood and lack any sort of back netting. Because of the lack of grass in this arid country, whenever there is any sort of movement on the field, a cloud of dust rises from the ground making everything even more dramatic. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">True Men has its own football team that competes with other government branches and organizations and when Thomas and I first informed everyone that we wanted to play, we were laughed at. Like actually. The project officers introduced us to all the peer educators on the 3</span><sup style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">rd</sup> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">day of work and everything was fine. As soon as they mentioned that we were going to play on the team, the whole room of 15 peer educators burst into laughter. It was so demoralizing and motivating at the same time.</span></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The issue was that most games are on weekends when we are off exploring the country. A couple of weeks back though, the game was on a Monday after work and we were determined to play. The game was against another organization dealing with vulnerable children. We had rip off Man U jerseys and they had rip off Inter jerseys. It was my first time in a Man U jersey, and though it was clean, i felt dirty.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46hic4CamGbYhpLT2728VgsOav2OsVs9ynYOuom2sl4z9u4-HG1IcduIusiZ3garfX2ThKiWi9brJ1YzmGupT-li4EuvReg6DKdu1Xo7pjoRLXpUr320YJpO65J7IDd8jDJzHp_LmOXXG/s1600/DSC_0157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46hic4CamGbYhpLT2728VgsOav2OsVs9ynYOuom2sl4z9u4-HG1IcduIusiZ3garfX2ThKiWi9brJ1YzmGupT-li4EuvReg6DKdu1Xo7pjoRLXpUr320YJpO65J7IDd8jDJzHp_LmOXXG/s320/DSC_0157.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">(photo credit: Isabelle Jones)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">School had just been let out and so there we had quite the crowd not to mention all our co-workers. Without cleats, Thomas and I struggled to stay up in the initial stages of the game. The ground was a mixture of dirt, pebbles, and broken shards of glass. Falling was gambling with life. I was so unbelievably out of shape, and in the arid climate, a water break was necessary after 4 minutes. The other guys were not as good as they made themselves out to be and Thomas and I did the QPID proud. The final score was 5-7 and the loss was unfortunate but we were glad that we had maintained our dignity. Good times in Botswana.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5vK88DrD_DC5izMjbQXQRXxoYbWKwA6DOs7_OS591tL4HwJFNccfj2JT0gVch_b0IQD3q9MC4Q81YoKkxkjF60WbbIU2wJ0no1tPnBXlzyo0Jza4zYwDAzMSZRRpu-sJ8p52LyHz_bu4/s1600/DSC_0075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5vK88DrD_DC5izMjbQXQRXxoYbWKwA6DOs7_OS591tL4HwJFNccfj2JT0gVch_b0IQD3q9MC4Q81YoKkxkjF60WbbIU2wJ0no1tPnBXlzyo0Jza4zYwDAzMSZRRpu-sJ8p52LyHz_bu4/s400/DSC_0075.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Team (photo credit: Isabelle Jones)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-6587018705886777972011-08-09T06:20:00.000-07:002011-08-09T06:47:52.333-07:00Weekend in the Ghetto<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For the weekend of July 22<sup>nd</sup> -25<sup>th</sup>, after a short 3-day work week following the long weekend and midsummer retreat, Team Francistown decided to stay put in the Ghetto and just take it easy for once. It was to be our first weekend in the town we have been residing in for 2 months and it was nice to take a break from all the adventurous travelling and stay put. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Saturday morning was spent doing laundry. Lots and lots of laundry. More on this to follow in a later post. Just know that it is absolutely exhausting. After, Isabelle and I met up with Bettina and Thomas at the happenin’ Galo Mall. This posh mall has a number of good restaurants including Nandos, and Bimbo’s and we decided to treat ourselves with authentic Indian food at Tandurei Restaurant. Our entertainment came in the form of Bettina’s bewilderment at Indian food. “Black people don’t do green” was her comment at the sight of palak paneer (spinach and cheese). She has said this on a number of occasions with reference to the fact that raw vegetables don’t exist in the cuisine here; everything is cooked, spiced, and salted. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1y55dD3FtBcWazfc9r8Q2pfZSTS63yI0OCs8B2vUwSLHWPTKLXinxIkioOO5TijnZeZr5zqULf2vH3npTtg5srWpPjSQEyFek8TvGccXWRQ3M1V_g_R3dMa8h55LuHYnw-Ty9gPTL8lK/s1600/DSC_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1y55dD3FtBcWazfc9r8Q2pfZSTS63yI0OCs8B2vUwSLHWPTKLXinxIkioOO5TijnZeZr5zqULf2vH3npTtg5srWpPjSQEyFek8TvGccXWRQ3M1V_g_R3dMa8h55LuHYnw-Ty9gPTL8lK/s400/DSC_0005.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Galo Mall</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our appetites satisfied, we walked around and stumbled on a fashion show as well as a rap battle where up-and-coming rappers were ripping each other apart with the crowd helping in being all gangsta and going “OHHHHHHHHHHHH” at hearing a “dope” rhyme. We were told that we had arrived late and that earlier in the day, there had been skateboarding, djing, and dancing competitions sponsored by Sprite. We then just walked around our town, across the railway tracks through the industrial area to the Catholic Church and then to Francistown’s “tall” building that was all 3 stories high. Yes. You read correctly. 3 stories. Believe it or not, that’s the highest elevation I’ve been at since arriving in Botswana 2 months ago. Even two-story structures are unusually out of place. Francistown is completely flat with one dominating hill (Nyangabgwe Hill) that can be seen from miles around. At sundown, we went to our chill spot at Milky Lane where the variety in ice creams, and beverages mindboggling (this place requires its own post so I will post about it later). </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuGC3sjeTwGUANwt62IfSiHXF54FCbraTuIXbvJHRn_npYEjPmskm31IJNduSOQi-2CepWrX2-ZB-4kyaMnS86KvVjuh-6zOhQFNCW-ptDlqkNgiQmOSHxmGUfF0iC04MDbS2ySOPqkJ9/s1600/DSC_0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuGC3sjeTwGUANwt62IfSiHXF54FCbraTuIXbvJHRn_npYEjPmskm31IJNduSOQi-2CepWrX2-ZB-4kyaMnS86KvVjuh-6zOhQFNCW-ptDlqkNgiQmOSHxmGUfF0iC04MDbS2ySOPqkJ9/s400/DSC_0011.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Haskin's Street and Nyangabgwe Hill</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sunday consisted of more laundry and washing our tent, which was getting moldy after it had been lathered with bat guano and other crap at the Okavango Delta. It was a two person effort that took most of the afternoon. By the end of the weekend, I had spent around 8 hours just washing stuff. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">All in all, our Francistown weekend was nice. We are no longer foreigners here and this is our home. People recognize us and say hello not as if we were tourists, but as if we were residents and it’s just an awesome feeling. Though there’s a lot to see in this world, its sometimes nice to just to stay home. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In work related news, Is and I recently interviewed all the True Men staff in order to compile a organizational analysis and structure assessment report that will be submitted to the organization director. It’s a hefty 16-page document that will go a long way in improving the organization. Next project is sorting out some sponsorship stuff at the organization. True Men in the past has had some issues in managing sponsor money and with the prospect of 2 new projects related to safe male circumcision, and alcohol abuse, money management will become key to the success of the organization. </span></div></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-43755932134974475942011-07-26T15:17:00.000-07:002011-07-26T15:20:48.209-07:00Midsummer Retreat at the Okavango Delta<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For the long weekend of July 15<sup>th</sup>-19<sup>th,</sup> the QPID Bots team met up for our midsummer retreat at the touristy town of Maun, the gateway to the Okavango Delta. The purpose of the midsummer retreat was to discuss the successes and shortcomings of the QPID Projects and refocus us for the second half of the project.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> This was done through execution of well thought out discussions led by our site-director Thomas and a number of team development exercises. Because of the long weekend, we also had ample time to do touristy things on a “shoestring” budget and just relax. I just also want to add that this post was so delayed in its creation because I’ve found it incredibly difficult to put into words the overwhelming beauty that was witnessed. I know that’s very soft of me, but for real, I’m getting the jitters writing this post. It’s like trying to reflect on one of those days where your left speechless except this was 4 of those days in a row. Ill try my best to describe the sensory experiences of the trip but this post will do no justice to the memories created at the Okavango Delta.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">First, here is a little geography lesson on the Okavango Delta. It is the world’s largest inland river delta and what that means is that instead of emptying into the ocean like most rivers, the Cubango (Kovango) River just fans out and forms a massive flood plain in Northwestern Botswana. Considering that 80% of Botswana is covered by the arid Kalahari Desert, the Okavango Delta forms a one-of-a-kind 18,000 km<sup>2</sup> oasis with lush vegetation attracting animals from neighboring countries. Like the animals that make the annual migration, the water itself makes one hell of a journey, which starts in the Angolan highlands where it rains down from December to March. This water then makes its way through Namibia and starts flooding the Northwestern Plains in May and the process continues throughout the winter. At its peak-in July and August- the floodplain covers 3 times more land than in the summer. For you water cycle geeks, the massive surface area to volume ratio means a crazy rate of evaporation and transpiration and about 11 cubic kilometers of water is lost by September.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAchv_CYE6UexklTY6v1pfbFNW3GV7jOTdRp46ZaBzmANssWaje0KOyz5hmfyh8zT9zMZ-cE1MRtyp8Ar_bp-uHMCLe5j-YuUb6JIhUZ7tDYR73UiEFJolBqrxRxdlbT9eb5tCdwxMCBcE/s1600/Post_Swamp-Troop_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAchv_CYE6UexklTY6v1pfbFNW3GV7jOTdRp46ZaBzmANssWaje0KOyz5hmfyh8zT9zMZ-cE1MRtyp8Ar_bp-uHMCLe5j-YuUb6JIhUZ7tDYR73UiEFJolBqrxRxdlbT9eb5tCdwxMCBcE/s400/Post_Swamp-Troop_3.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just wanted to give a sense of the vastness. Shot by Adrien Bailey (http://roadmedia.co.za/swamp-troop/the-okavango-delta/)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the winter months (right now), the Okavango Delta holds spectacle to one of the largest congregations of wildlife anywhere on earth with about 260,000 migrant game animals. There are 5 ethnic groups that have historically depended- and still depend- on the swampland of the Okavango Delta. Sadly enough, there are also a number of concessions smack dab in the middle of the floodplains belonging to extremely wealthy landowners that have established luxury lodges catering to the rich of the rich with weekend getaways in the bush costing upwards of $10,000. These places are so remote that the only realistic way of getting to them is by chartered planes that land on private airstrips. Then, there is Chief’s Island, the largest island in the Okavango Delta that was the personal hunting grounds of the Great Chief Moremi. It boasts some of the greatest densities of large predators anywhere on earth and is as wild as it gets. But enough of me trying to describe the Okavango Delta. For those of you who have watched the BBC Planet Earth Series, rewatch the Pole to Pole episode or the Great Plains episode where there is some really incredible footage of the Okavango Delta. For those of you who haven’t, watch them. Here are some links that’ll help you understand this place:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/player/places/regions-places/africa-southern/botswana_okavangodelta.html">http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/player/places/regions-places/africa-southern/botswana_okavangodelta.html</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://vimeo.com/groups/2343/videos/11097975">http://vimeo.com/groups/2343/videos/11097975</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As for our journey, Is and I left Francistown at 7AM on Friday July 15<sup>th</sup> and reached Maun at 2PM after using what was the most comfortable public transportation yet. The bus, which would have accommodated 27 passengers on any other route and 15 in Canada, only had 22 seats and so unlike in our travels to Kasane, we weren’t squished up against anyone. The entertainment system was also pretty boss in the sense that there was a hanging 24-inch screen supported by a sound system with serious bass. Our country music loving Rastafarian driver had quite the collection of movies and we were able to watch “Crocodile” (well suited for our trip to the Okavango), “Cop Out”, and “Cellular” for the duration of the trip. About 4 or 5 times, while passing through the Makgadikgadi Pans, we had to slow down or come to a complete stop, as there were ostriches on the highway. Everywhere else you have dangerous drivers that are the problem; here we have an 8 foot tall birds that refuse to move. The most exciting</span><span style="font-size: small;"> (and unfortunate) part of our journey was seeing about 20 white-backed vultures feeding on a fresh road-kill wildebeest. All along the way, whenever we saw wildlife, Is and I would be the foreign idiots and get all excited while the rest of the passengers wouldn’t even turn to look. It was quite frustrating not being able to share our excitement. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For accommodation for our 4-day trip, our goal was to find something cheap to fit the QPID budget but still enjoyable and I think we found the perfect place to stay with the Old Bridge Backpackers (<a href="http://www.maun-backpackers.com/">http://www.maun-backpackers.com/</a>). Located 10 km out of Maun on an island type land mass with Delta water all around, the place caters to young travellers and backpackers. The only way to get to it is by either an old foot bridge (hence the name “Old Bridge”) across the Thamalakane River or a dirt road that is maybe 3 inches higher than the water on either side. The place itself has a very laid back and relaxed atmosphere with very friendly staff and no formalities. Our tent, pitched under a large fruitful sycamore fig tree, was literally half a meter from a section of the Thamalakane River that used to be a Hippo Pool (my parents will be glad to know that the hippos no longer reside there). Most lodges and companies have some sort of large symbolic animal like an elephant or leopard on their logos but Old Bridge has a bat on theirs. Foreshadowing. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPDEXZog1XL6yuWNww6uoEO4ANZ7ri3OBUo-i0R8vH8XiYkFmyOnaFL5rU5rdMusl2Baz6xmh0VdB18dl1BT-M8eUjKR5Fhh5Xv8kplK17d_W7UWJIjpami5JdTPMTyPDE5naoGI7hkbSH/s1600/DSC_0491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPDEXZog1XL6yuWNww6uoEO4ANZ7ri3OBUo-i0R8vH8XiYkFmyOnaFL5rU5rdMusl2Baz6xmh0VdB18dl1BT-M8eUjKR5Fhh5Xv8kplK17d_W7UWJIjpami5JdTPMTyPDE5naoGI7hkbSH/s400/DSC_0491.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Hippo Pool and fireplace at the Old Bridge Backpackers</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The first night was spent meeting other travellers and discussing our projects.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Entertainment was provided by a retired British army officer with some serious opinions, and a Norwegian traveller using only public transport to get from Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania to RSA and all the way back. Amanda, the Peace Corps volunteer we had met while in search of the Chief of Bobonong (see earlier post) was also there with about 6 other Peace Corps and WUSC people and so there were a number of young people there. That night, while in the tent, we heard sounds above our tent and things falling on our tent. Too exhausted to really care, we went to bed. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwKaPDLueS-yZUhiaY-rp4TcF362vi5o6gJkv52d7-hDxpNaSQ8CdcGHZcposbNVgfkEb_RFb1M1wZztWY58R0_9fhVQcutMze6WqRjy_6RfwXaAyc2eMuXmiMWLG32fxSc9rKN8U08bg/s1600/DSC_0482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwKaPDLueS-yZUhiaY-rp4TcF362vi5o6gJkv52d7-hDxpNaSQ8CdcGHZcposbNVgfkEb_RFb1M1wZztWY58R0_9fhVQcutMze6WqRjy_6RfwXaAyc2eMuXmiMWLG32fxSc9rKN8U08bg/s400/DSC_0482.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our camping neighbors' tent. Ours fared a little bit better than theirs.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On Saturday, at 7AM, we woke up to discover that our tent had been covered in bat guano as well as the partially eaten sticky figs that they had been feasting on. For our daily activity, we had planned a mokoro daytrip to the Okavango Delta, something that any traveller to the area must do to experience the Delta. A mokoro or makoro (pl. mekoro) is a traditional wooden dugout canoe used by the local people to travel through the shallow floodplains. It is the only viable method of transportation as it sits probably 2 or 3 inches below the water level, and has no carbon footprint. Other motorboats are used but only in the main waterways but these don’t penetrate very deep and so mokoros are necessary. Propulsion comes from manually pushing the mokoro ahead with a very long pole. The sycamore fig, sausage, or ebony trees used for mekoro take about 100 years to mature and so most people these days use fiberglass mekoro for the sake of sustainability. After about 45 minutes on a motorboat travelling up the Thamalakane River to the Okavango River and floodplain, we arrived at the Okavango Kopano Mokoro Community Trust base in Boro village in the NG32 concession. With 2 in each mokoro, we headed out as a convoy of 4 into the Okavango Delta.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMIIGtuYloAfSf37lhZKXA4oqdDSUmWYBAIZP5RkJtivRuKnsyrcNmCatX85FOJ_SVOD8arz5-B-lVxDLt7PS3AvJWHzvcg_9ThDtOKCzEVz2honFgbqg-347pV9_f_XgbAb24lEYtZ4A/s1600/DSC_0133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMIIGtuYloAfSf37lhZKXA4oqdDSUmWYBAIZP5RkJtivRuKnsyrcNmCatX85FOJ_SVOD8arz5-B-lVxDLt7PS3AvJWHzvcg_9ThDtOKCzEVz2honFgbqg-347pV9_f_XgbAb24lEYtZ4A/s400/DSC_0133.jpg" width="265" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the main waterways</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sow, our guide and poler, was probably the most knowledgeable of them all and had been doing this for 18 years. The mokoro itself is not very stable and we were required to sit for the whole time while our guide stood behind us propelling us through the reeds while smoking and drinking a coke (he was talented). We rode past a hut where there was some meat being smoked. Sow told us that a foreigner had come and hunted and elephant and these guys were smoking the elephant meat for consumption. Half of the elephant was left on the land for the animals to eat. Sow made it clear to us that people still come from abroad and hunt for trophies here in Botswana and he didn’t agree with the practice at all. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuSYLiXSNAOkrpMgkZSh0DaoHwUkLVyRBdrWA1Hip4yqZ_dgDD4uwpOqz7OG_lThXePSAulMPC4JWPJVozNZ7CD0UfiLSJh4aMDSPUCs4047_LAU1_WbxrcWT-9o73sJ2gdW7fJ7lGluw/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuSYLiXSNAOkrpMgkZSh0DaoHwUkLVyRBdrWA1Hip4yqZ_dgDD4uwpOqz7OG_lThXePSAulMPC4JWPJVozNZ7CD0UfiLSJh4aMDSPUCs4047_LAU1_WbxrcWT-9o73sJ2gdW7fJ7lGluw/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">All that stringy stuff is elephant meat.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After about half an hour, we had pulled away from the main waterway and there was absolutely no man-made sound. It was bliss. It took a while to realize it but, in utter awe, none of us made a sound and neither did the guides, knowing full well that we were immersed in the serenity of it all. The poles entered the water with such grace and technique that there was no splash that would have snapped us out of our dream-state. Occasionally we would find ourselves surrounded by thick reed carving our way through what seemed like unchartered territory. There was no sound of snapping twigs or the destruction of reeds, only the gentle buzz of friction as they were brushed aside by the mokoro. Above us was the consistency of a cloudless sky. Below us was a tempting underwater world of spiraling water lily roots and fresh water flora, protected from us by the crystal glass that was water, and our fear of everything wild. We would hear the flight of frogs into the water as they perceived danger but we never saw them. Occasionally, and unexpectedly, a flock of white-faced ducks would take flight from a distant patch of reeds only to settle in our undetermined path where they would be disturbed again. I was at complete peace. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJonAC9WMVc3TKLuHGpr-ytpAclzHlK_7wCdH7jUKHnsufjCUBMF6roPklsmd8DRpC57RYb_ppcRNT2Jg40lSwlmQJbh0msWv2mUwie54zFVgZIm-JWxXaF5pBXUZGXNUiIly-PEVdmks5/s1600/DSC_0120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJonAC9WMVc3TKLuHGpr-ytpAclzHlK_7wCdH7jUKHnsufjCUBMF6roPklsmd8DRpC57RYb_ppcRNT2Jg40lSwlmQJbh0msWv2mUwie54zFVgZIm-JWxXaF5pBXUZGXNUiIly-PEVdmks5/s400/DSC_0120.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Enough said about the peacefulness </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lo2I4ELq1CSpOmWL6w2VTmW2kiX5JAGclHpQL5EQxCwiOGsMVTHJMwfaLwah3sFw0efXC93_S304ekigzZ_a1ZG5k1JewlzrudaRKx-H-5zjqv_9sd4BiQQK4J1R8gLDVwkQ-p6mkIr_/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lo2I4ELq1CSpOmWL6w2VTmW2kiX5JAGclHpQL5EQxCwiOGsMVTHJMwfaLwah3sFw0efXC93_S304ekigzZ_a1ZG5k1JewlzrudaRKx-H-5zjqv_9sd4BiQQK4J1R8gLDVwkQ-p6mkIr_/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We cautiously approached a “hippo pool” where hippos were known to reside. Hippos are Africa’s most dangerous animals and are responsible for more human deaths than lions or elephants. They look fat, and lethargic, but are incredibly fast on land and, with their voluptuous bodies and unstoppable momentum, can own anything that ventures too close into their water territories. We had already received hippo land safety training when we were in Kasane standing on the banks of the Chobe, but here, we were surrounded by shallow water that a hippo could have easily plowed through.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> As we approached an opening in the reeds, we heard what sounded like a whale surfacing for air. It was obviously a hippo and the guides backed us out as fast as they could. We then got our hippo water safety training, which was even more terrifying. Basically, there have been incidents where hippos have tipped mekoro over and proceeded to kill people. We were advised to stay in our Mokoro and not jump into the water and were we to be knocked into the water, to swim as far away underwater before surfacing. We approached with caution and in the distance, saw 4 hippos visibly alert of our presence. We admired them while they were above the water but as they went under, uneasiness prevailed. One hippo went under, and surfaced maybe 15 feet from us and this is where the guides got really alert. The beast was looking straight at us obviously acknowledging our presence. Thomas’ guide joked about going closer but our site-director was about to have a cow and so we stayed put. We backed up about 20 meters to the closest land mass and proceeded to have lunch still with the surfacing hippos in sight. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZCTz36OcX40kGaEJip6shylHMMkbPe9A98GIIfff5J83HIo51zpB-7k4FF2SknmcFn6pwIuk2LeA43k5atsWcaVf6eH27idBuxKWe_V7k6S4G4yuEG9Vu11MH3fGIijmT_sJPvzQgCKC/s1600/DSC_0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZCTz36OcX40kGaEJip6shylHMMkbPe9A98GIIfff5J83HIo51zpB-7k4FF2SknmcFn6pwIuk2LeA43k5atsWcaVf6eH27idBuxKWe_V7k6S4G4yuEG9Vu11MH3fGIijmT_sJPvzQgCKC/s400/DSC_0046.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">15 feet away watching us intently</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After lunch, we all took turns trying to pole a mokoro just by the hippo pool and it was prettyyyy difficult. Imagine standing on a flat bottom canoe using a large pole to maneuver yourself. Turning was especially difficult.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> After, we tracked a herd of zebras while they were grazing in the shallow waters. I made the mistake of stepping on Isabelle’s seat as I was getting out of the mokoro that made a loud crackle that scared away the herd. We then proceeded to track them on land and that’s where we got more safety lessons in dealing with lions, buffalo, elephants, and leopards. Sow was a pretty awesome tracker and after about 20 minutes, we found the herd in some bush intently watching our every move. After all our game drives and safaris, I would say that they were more interested in us than we were in them but it was a completely different experience being on foot in the wild bush. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6SWV4qzDT5bvmp09E4vTGBxiRTGz9X4lq7ZIP06tO3i5KSyWfPPq_vPfeiXdTjsy5CNRrJi_3rFywfxysX5rxSus4qgxZlgM3TdNMwry9xpGRDSm38_mFO6wDEXGqFh9Faxqy7xXnmw04/s1600/DSC_0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6SWV4qzDT5bvmp09E4vTGBxiRTGz9X4lq7ZIP06tO3i5KSyWfPPq_vPfeiXdTjsy5CNRrJi_3rFywfxysX5rxSus4qgxZlgM3TdNMwry9xpGRDSm38_mFO6wDEXGqFh9Faxqy7xXnmw04/s400/DSC_0068.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Zebras in the distance</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0RoTd63yezXMbsW8AitiO4QtUW7vB8WwOgygJoFa0auNuRKSbDlCMfdpFSAJJp2xaUcTCnIt7R3BzEiJWtqUGVJ_8qeQACOJs7gqxmzf-Zj6ySyzgEl6m7q7IgEW0bigHzReMSZ6mMvk/s1600/DSC_0142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0RoTd63yezXMbsW8AitiO4QtUW7vB8WwOgygJoFa0auNuRKSbDlCMfdpFSAJJp2xaUcTCnIt7R3BzEiJWtqUGVJ_8qeQACOJs7gqxmzf-Zj6ySyzgEl6m7q7IgEW0bigHzReMSZ6mMvk/s400/DSC_0142.JPG" width="265" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me being a poler. Photo credit: Isabelle Jones (cooperant partner)</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our mokoro daytrip ended with Thomas trying to flip me while I was practicing my poling back at NG32, and a very enjoyable motorboat trip from Boro village back to the lodge where we had left in the morning. We had covered roughly 5 km in a mokoro and had seen only the smallest bit of the 18,000 km<sup>2</sup> Okavango Delta but had be left wordless. Saturday night consisted of a lot of socializing with travellers and sitting around the fire with professional guides and discussing their awesome lives. I decided to sleep outside near the fire and after about 3 hours of sleep, woke up at 5:30 AM to prepare for our daytrip to the legendary Moremi Game Reserve.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On an absolutely freezing morning, at 6AM, in the back of an wall-less safari car, we made our way along the 142km route to Moremi Game Reserve. Imagine sitting on top of a car in 3 degrees Celsius weather going 80km on a dirt road. It was excruciatingly painful on the face and extremities and by the end, I was told by the others that I looked like an old cross-dresser with my wind-burned lips and dirt coated skin….. The reserve itself is partly located in the Okavango Delta (about 20% of it), used to belong to Chief Moremi, and is host to some spectacular wildlife. It has been the setting many wildlife documentaries and hosts about 30% of the world remaining wild dogs. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3wiw-tGbAC6qr6K0E18F5gVrAxZo_qcg5AO0gO4r6fybiTbvkMPnT55hUNMb7R7YK3kvc2Nb5QZ5mGOvxA2JJPPZTIe2WJVFsFXGPzFG7emh7uxRkB-lmgl44OM-tbtgP4vCzgLCy-R2/s1600/DSC_0155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3wiw-tGbAC6qr6K0E18F5gVrAxZo_qcg5AO0gO4r6fybiTbvkMPnT55hUNMb7R7YK3kvc2Nb5QZ5mGOvxA2JJPPZTIe2WJVFsFXGPzFG7emh7uxRkB-lmgl44OM-tbtgP4vCzgLCy-R2/s400/DSC_0155.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A very confident Red-billed Hornbill inquisitive of our breakfast</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The start up, as we drove through endless bush, was slow to say the least but then it picked up and we saw the usual safari game. The elephants were smaller in comparison to the specimens in Kasane and our guide Rex attributed it to the fact that the habitat here was much easier to plow through then the dense bush of Chobe National Park and hence the difference in size. Around midday, we ended up helping a vehicle that had gotten stuck in deep sand for about an hour. It’s an unspoken rule that if another safari goer needs your help, you help them or else when you’re stuck, karma will bite you in the ass. The karma rule worked well for us because after lunch, we spotted a pair of caracals, side-striped jackals, and endangered Wattled Cranes. The monogamous cranes were a highlight seeing as there are only 8,000 of them left in the wild. Facts for the day are that they pair for life, mate once every four years, and are the second largest crane species after the sarcus crane. The rest of the day was spent traversing the reserve in search of lions and leopards but none were to be found. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOtTiBVIaoyh5ykO4N1qpXacuPZiXh0DxnG4VOI85CfwPopi7sZjuDxl9vj_Jfz4jC2herboq33yrVd8MAaOJkSo2I6fgn10T7LrhAh7mgT8k57unOpD2ZOdKBJGn2ORnpOh8tOpmvPM2/s1600/DSC_0345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOtTiBVIaoyh5ykO4N1qpXacuPZiXh0DxnG4VOI85CfwPopi7sZjuDxl9vj_Jfz4jC2herboq33yrVd8MAaOJkSo2I6fgn10T7LrhAh7mgT8k57unOpD2ZOdKBJGn2ORnpOh8tOpmvPM2/s400/DSC_0345.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Male zebra trying to show his dominance</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfdOPxT0foubo3ZhtlXyhY9abciT8gQkGu6RP5O42ZzSXlHVYaz_z7C9qfFqn2CUuoSLNJ3NM-Vj8ifTnWyEKEamMafFurXrcCp-8jKEAzaSAzVV7lcDUKRFjvoCrWLJvaALqV6CB1Aua/s1600/DSC_0180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfdOPxT0foubo3ZhtlXyhY9abciT8gQkGu6RP5O42ZzSXlHVYaz_z7C9qfFqn2CUuoSLNJ3NM-Vj8ifTnWyEKEamMafFurXrcCp-8jKEAzaSAzVV7lcDUKRFjvoCrWLJvaALqV6CB1Aua/s400/DSC_0180.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkHdgG6dBeg7yI-iqDghyphenhyphenNLzcWZz7mV47ecOWO-zgehLdOXE3WQxJFatkIyqHCEkjZ5IuVRHvCdpqCQTq1RuPVwVw0AvpZmtgF-ssREG3h3DhjqTQ96PtVuELQXhlnAOUM4M96AX0dZh2/s1600/DSC_0322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkHdgG6dBeg7yI-iqDghyphenhyphenNLzcWZz7mV47ecOWO-zgehLdOXE3WQxJFatkIyqHCEkjZ5IuVRHvCdpqCQTq1RuPVwVw0AvpZmtgF-ssREG3h3DhjqTQ96PtVuELQXhlnAOUM4M96AX0dZh2/s400/DSC_0322.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Semi-aquatic red lechwe</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUBu9oaOECobCfZx2VwA8KxTFPW8HWy7M1xjuuFr7NA3s_H2GZmyhPA3l2XYjqokH5y2gtnhCUsyF0Mn-X_4_Bi20nDIhHF9I9gN3B12LyB8ykA5yTETXsGF4zQlheEdvzygB3iEHhblFQ/s1600/DSC_0281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUBu9oaOECobCfZx2VwA8KxTFPW8HWy7M1xjuuFr7NA3s_H2GZmyhPA3l2XYjqokH5y2gtnhCUsyF0Mn-X_4_Bi20nDIhHF9I9gN3B12LyB8ykA5yTETXsGF4zQlheEdvzygB3iEHhblFQ/s640/DSC_0281.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A pair of Wattled Cranes</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At about 6PM, when the sun had already set and our eyes were painfully dry, out of nowhere came a single African Wild Dog. Let me just put into perspective how epic this sighting was. There are about 100,000 leopards and 20,000 lions in the wild and on our 4 game excursions, we have caught only 1 glimpse of a lion. There are only 5,000 African Wild Dogs left in the wild with the average pack range of 600 km<sup>2</sup> and one just so happened to be crossing our path just as we were leaving the unfenced reserve. In the low-light, a good picture was impossible, especially since the agile canine kept leaping up in the air in search of another dog that we didn’t see. Here is another fun statistic for you today: Most large predators like lions, leopards, and cheetahs, have a hunt success rate of about 20-30%. African Wild Dogs succeed in a hunt 80% of the time. In the end, we were all left speechless. But that’s just how Mother Africa is. Like Is said: you go out in search of some creature but will only see it once you stop looking. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see an African Wild Dog. My midsummer retreat was more than complete. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsZY_M0JN_E_UtU-HiaI_c0IRqoKJuXIUfg95PtIayr8lYSLw1BLhCYbbAtUvBTK9yOC-u3E0xUbpuiPllkBFJU_PbCr-36bvmVqMTFFaUUVBWU-zODZofVTrJ7awqYlSSip2iXHpvABt/s1600/DSC_0400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsZY_M0JN_E_UtU-HiaI_c0IRqoKJuXIUfg95PtIayr8lYSLw1BLhCYbbAtUvBTK9yOC-u3E0xUbpuiPllkBFJU_PbCr-36bvmVqMTFFaUUVBWU-zODZofVTrJ7awqYlSSip2iXHpvABt/s400/DSC_0400.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The fleeting glimpse of an African Wild Dog jumping in search of others</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sunday was spent sleeping in until 10AM, the latest anyone of us has slept in since being in Botswana. After a relaxing morning that the team spent reading by the river banks, I acquired 2 fishing rods and we set off to the old foot bridge to do some fishing. Thomas and I ditched the girls and went for a basket-weaving workshop. Funny how the girls stayed back and went fishing while the guys went for a basket-weaving workshop. Behind a small shop surrounded by housing, we sat with an incredible lady by the name of Thitaku Kushonya. Under the shadow of the shop, she mentored us on the art of basket weaving and told us about her life. Turns out, she is not just some ordinary basket weaver who had set up a business to get some income from the tourism industry. The lady sitting next to me, guiding my every move, was THE Thitaku Kushonya: MASTER Basket Weaver of Botswana. She is the NUMBER ONE basket weaver in all of Botswana and her baskets have taken her across the globe from the 1994 Olympics in Atlanta, Georgia to Toronto, to Disney World. We, average joe cheap student travellers, we getting lessons from the lady that established the basket weaving industry in Botswana. On an annual basis, Mma Kushonya weaves 25 baskets for sale and 6 baskets that she enters into competitions. She showed us one competition basket she had recently finished and it was a piece of art like no other. Hidden in her office desk, out of the sites of the public, she made it clear that this basket was going nowhere but to the competition and rightly so. The afternoon turned out to be a personal and very enjoyable experience and I’m incredibly thankful to Thitaku Kushonya for her dedicating her time to what she believes in and giving us her time and support. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiid-ymcIZmAGX1KieWHO74gJ0cLgb8cr8Dh2fOKf270cmpvjaFe5qjwNDyuAG5sexHyO82z8b95ne22Dx3H7lfWwF4iRJFCD3nHXVdcEWFjP1OR7N5skPGxY_r3CUw0ZWHiacvoeO_5k9h/s1600/DSC_0445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiid-ymcIZmAGX1KieWHO74gJ0cLgb8cr8Dh2fOKf270cmpvjaFe5qjwNDyuAG5sexHyO82z8b95ne22Dx3H7lfWwF4iRJFCD3nHXVdcEWFjP1OR7N5skPGxY_r3CUw0ZWHiacvoeO_5k9h/s400/DSC_0445.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRd8IxI9CxFSca-y_IBvmzg2fLdO8mwtkKkryKCFoPbegoX8UBQ0yGG3WANxVEpk5tzI3FQ7sSLF8NiSPYzl30O6dl8eVo2sS8C-AaTkNwNZyyJr2ZBPD31bmT7eKzrsx2mVc0TkhNXxq5/s1600/DSC_0435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRd8IxI9CxFSca-y_IBvmzg2fLdO8mwtkKkryKCFoPbegoX8UBQ0yGG3WANxVEpk5tzI3FQ7sSLF8NiSPYzl30O6dl8eVo2sS8C-AaTkNwNZyyJr2ZBPD31bmT7eKzrsx2mVc0TkhNXxq5/s400/DSC_0435.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mma Kushonya's competition basket. Enlarge for detail</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lo2I4ELq1CSpOmWL6w2VTmW2kiX5JAGclHpQL5EQxCwiOGsMVTHJMwfaLwah3sFw0efXC93_S304ekigzZ_a1ZG5k1JewlzrudaRKx-H-5zjqv_9sd4BiQQK4J1R8gLDVwkQ-p6mkIr_/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmqWmtV_wJQqYCSkFrdKzZIe8E89WsihXgR7SY8PYQy3ceAFB8wNF1FWR_J2pd5Kv7U6V6fnFHlf9qQ7pyU0V3l1IbaVol2zA1xrYOmoxV3ltnUp8A5WumSgqVXaLB-pxSvmaG1H77K_a/s1600/DSC_0461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmqWmtV_wJQqYCSkFrdKzZIe8E89WsihXgR7SY8PYQy3ceAFB8wNF1FWR_J2pd5Kv7U6V6fnFHlf9qQ7pyU0V3l1IbaVol2zA1xrYOmoxV3ltnUp8A5WumSgqVXaLB-pxSvmaG1H77K_a/s400/DSC_0461.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mma Kushonya and the boys in her cooperative shop</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Upon our return to the campsite, we discovered that the girls had successfully caught, descaled, gutted, and cooked 2 decently sized fish. The girls were covered in scales but the meal was impressive to say the least. That night was spent finishing up our discussions on the project and what needs to change for the second half of our placement here in Botswana. The night brought to close what for me was the most enjoyable and memorable adventure on this trip. Okavango Delta, I will be back. Inshallah. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-24364669470139254442011-07-14T06:16:00.000-07:002011-07-14T06:16:27.741-07:00Do Something<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>For this next post, I first want you to reflect on the global news you’ve been watching or hearing about. This could be from the last time you switched from one movie channel to the next and accidently had to pass the news channel, or the last time you skimmed over the online BBC news page just so you didn’t feel like an idiot when others discussed global affairs in everyday conversation (not that that ever happens). Or you could be the type of person who is well versed on current affairs and has an opinion on everything. If you have no idea what is going on in the world, go to some news website-any news website really, biased or unbiased- and find out what’s going on in the world. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>The latest headlines that have caught my attention are riots in Greece over austerity measures, a hacking scandal that has engulfed UK media, and generally, governments doing things that their people don’t agree with. In the Middle East and North Africa, we see full out war in Libya (call it what you want), unrest in Syria that has left over 1,700 people dead, the people of Egypt struggling to put their country back together, and another revolution of sorts in Yemen. Also lets not forget Bahrain. Moving further east, we have the very unpopular Afghan War that seems to be dragging on forever with no progress, constant drone strikes in Pakistan that have left 56+ civilians dead in the last 2 days, and bomb blasts in India’s financial capital of Mumbai just yesterday. Clearly things aren’t going too good. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>In all of these incidents, civilians like you and I lost their lives. But to us- people who are far away from all the action, sitting in the comfort of our homes-all this news is just news. We pity the state of the world for a bit and then return to our lives. Maybe its because all of that terrible stuff is only happening to 1 million people and since we’re a 7 billion strong species<span> </span>(yes we are no longer 6 billion), 1 million is insignificant? Maybe its because we just see ourselves as very fortunate and blessed while the others got unlucky? Or maybe we think we are too insignificant as individuals to do anything? Why are we so damn complacent about the state of our world? </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>How about the drought in the Horn of Africa that affects 10 million people? I was reading one article that said that out of desperation to save some of their kids, mothers were letting the weakest die just so they’d have enough food to feed the stronger ones. While on the topic of children, according to UNICEF, an estimated 22,000 children (defined as below the age of 5) die of poverty each day. And while on the topic of poverty, over 3 billion people live on less than $2.50 a day.How on earth do you and I sleep peacefully at night on our $1000 memory foam mattresses when there are hundreds of millions of people sleeping on dirt, resting their heads on flip flops, and scavenging for food? The “human race” is making huge steps forward but the poorest people, the people that make up the majority of the human race, are being left behind to die in circumstances they had no control over. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Enough ranting about how inhumane and foolish we are. If you’ve read this far and are just wondering why I didn’t cite my sources, or that one phrase of mine was innacurate etc. then you didn’t get the real message. Let me lay it out for you: You and I spend our lives in comfort while others rot away indirectly serving us with our pleasures and we don’t even give them a thought. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Monday, July 18<sup>th</sup>, is Nelson Mandela Day and I beg you to give up a minimum of 67 minutes of your comfortable lives to help someone. I don’t know if anyone outside of Southern Africa even knows about it but everyone here is ready to give up 67 minutes to do some good. Mandela gave 67 years of his life for the betterment of his world, so we best be able to give up 67 minutes. And if you don’t like the idea of putting Mandela’s name to it, then just go out and do some service. But make sure you do something. If your dry on ideas, here <a href="http://www.mandeladay.com/static/join">http://www.mandeladay.com/static/join</a>. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Wake up from your slumber people. We all live in the same world. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Note: This is my personal rant and plea. I don’t mean to offend anyone.<span> </span></span></span></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-59855210637798573412011-07-14T00:12:00.000-07:002011-07-14T00:16:32.996-07:00Tuli Block<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Team Francistown (Thomas, Iz, and I) spent this past weekend (July 8</span><sup style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">-10</span><sup style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">) exploring the Tuli Block in Eastern Botswana and this was something we had intended to do 2 weeks ago but couldn’t because we didn’t have a car. What attracted us to this sparsely populated area was the offer of night drives in the Northern Tuli Game Reserve. Night drives meant nocturnal animals and nocturnal animals meant leopards, bushbabies (Lesser Galago), porcupines, and a variety of other elusive species. Another attraction was the Limpopo River, which was the setting of Isabelle’s favorite bedtime story. Off to Tuli Block we went…</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJlnEUeMvZDvRB7JKuG7uzA_bDyRiLbBqO5ECpNpYbVGwb1IMU55VR75LljpnXzWxA-nQP0mHNrHzQEVOtZekW7YVB_VqFc_uFld-t0X0mBA23dtFuqbBtm9FiZ-cY4Nsno5B5E8vbGYt/s1600/DSC_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">First, a little about Tuli. It’s a large swath of land that Chief Khama ceded to the British South Africa Company in the early 20</span><sup style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> century. They found little use for the land and sold it off to private commercial farmers after World War 2. The farmers found that the land was so rough and rocky that they couldn’t really keep a lot of cattle on it and so in the 1960s converted the area into privately owned reserves to profit from the growing safari tourism industry. The unfenced North East Tuli Game Reserve is made up of a number of reserves but together is the largest privately owned reserve in Southern Africa. The farmers established luxury safari lodges on their land and these lodges exclusively run this area. We sought the assistance of the luxurious Tuli Safari Lodge (</span><a href="http://www.tulilodge.com/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">http://www.tulilodge.com/</a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">) for our night game drive but the place is wayyy too expensive for a bunch of university students so we arranged a campsite at Molema Bush Camp (</span><a href="http://www.molema.com/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">http://www.molema.com/</a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">) which is also managed by Tuli Safari Lodge.</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On a very cloudy Friday, we started our journey after work at 2:30 and headed towards Bobonong, which was 3 hours away (refer to the In Search of the Chief of Bobonong if you want to know where it is). At one point, we unfortunately found ourselves in a funeral procession on a single lane highway with atleast 15 cars ahead of us all going 60 kph on a 120 road. After Bobonong, there were no more fuelling stations and we, being cheap university students, decided that our half tank of fuel would be enough for the 90kmh to Tuli Block as well as the rest of the weekend. Dumb decision….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We reached the Molema Bush Camp turning in the Tuli Block at around 7:15PM after which we had 5km to go on dirt road to get to the actual place. It was pitch black and the bush around us was very dense and so we decided to go slowww and steady to get to our destination. So far, all our camping trips have been to places where there isn’t too much wildlife (Kubu Island), or the dangerous wildlife doesn’t enter the bush (Khama Rhino Sanctuary). Based on that, it was our expectation that Molema would be more of the same… We were so wrong…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">About a kilometer along the path, we stumbled upon 3 or 4 young elephants and we all sort of just peed our pants in fright. Young elephants met mama elephants weren’t far and mama elephants meant a herd! Thomas was to the point where he chose to not look when I pointed at a newly discovered elephant in the bush just to the right of the car. We were 3 university students in a low sedan farr farrr away from any sort of civil comforts surrounded by a herd of elephants that seemed very intimidating in the dark. They gave us way and Thomas just darted through only to find numerous glittering eyes caught in the headlight. Thankfully they just turned out to be harmless impala, the natural feedstock of the large predators. We reached the Molema Bush Camp very on edge only to find that there was no gate or fence separating the wild from us. On one side of the bush was us, and on the other were the impalas (and other animals). It had taken us what felt like half an hour to cover 5km in a car…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cecilia and Chris were the only staffers at the Molema Bush Camp, which consists of a number of campsites and 2 chalets all just a few meters away from the banks of the legendary Limpopo River. They were very accommodating and hospitable and kindly showed to our campsite after we had covered rules and regulations. In the darkness, we couldn’t really see much of the area but were able to acknowledge the presence of a large nyala tree that covered most of the campsite. Relieved at finally reaching our destination after a tense few hours, we quickly set about preparing dinner. Just as Thomas picked up the first piece of firewood to break it into more manageable pieces, a scorpion appeared by his foot. We admired it for all 30 seconds after which the critter became agitated and curled up its stinger ready to strike. For our safety, it was destroyed and buried.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dinner consisted of bread with melted cheddar cheese, and cream of chicken soup, all prepared over a small fire and consumed without a spoon. As we ate dinner, we started hearing loud growling and groaning sounds from the bush but weren’t so afraid because the 2 other occupied campsites were still buzzing. About an hour later, when we were the only ones awake for miles and miles around, the sounds started to get quite terrifying and we decided to retreat to our tent and go to sleep. I fell asleep to the distant growls and yelps coming from the bush thinking that whatever was making those sounds wouldn’t dare venture close to us apex predators.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Probably 3 or 4 hours into my sleep, I was shoved awake by Thomas and Is who said they were hearing sounds just outside our tent. I didn’t hear anything, and so I just zoned them out and went to bed thinking that they were just being paranoid…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the morning, I woke to an agitated Thomas who didn’t understand how I had slept through the night without hearing the sounds. The surprise to me came when we stepped out of our tent to discover baboon tracks all over our campsite and some very large hind leg prints less than a meter from our tent. It was determined that a troop of baboons had been making the sounds and had stopped at our campsite to explore. After further exploration of the campsite area, we found bushbuck tracks and about 15 meters away, fresh LEOPARD TRACKS!!!</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPu_chv9c8gFhPUXHzLD6IRw3tcNimrvjOHmU9yI_9KevJrKtPwmgZ6ox5fphEQZBMjEO8RliHTYU7p028q2bEkRjZtB2dfm3h8GriUCgZty7Twfeh2iPJnjUPeWj1JfBPd0Od9aUww0w/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPu_chv9c8gFhPUXHzLD6IRw3tcNimrvjOHmU9yI_9KevJrKtPwmgZ6ox5fphEQZBMjEO8RliHTYU7p028q2bEkRjZtB2dfm3h8GriUCgZty7Twfeh2iPJnjUPeWj1JfBPd0Od9aUww0w/s400/DSC_0013.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our campsite, shaded by a huge nyala tree and frequented by wildlife</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjje1j0jkzyxF9ozHWmtErEcns3X9MqFN8eFlFKVdrnec15XlD5oT9EHOyQqUfgzC9R6uqQijurchRyD6uSTzEdDQN8W6z7CYtyvlClVCr3O8XsGNdp_fuw_kDvGyUlG-1YNoj6IKYlxnXS/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjje1j0jkzyxF9ozHWmtErEcns3X9MqFN8eFlFKVdrnec15XlD5oT9EHOyQqUfgzC9R6uqQijurchRyD6uSTzEdDQN8W6z7CYtyvlClVCr3O8XsGNdp_fuw_kDvGyUlG-1YNoj6IKYlxnXS/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young leopard tracks </td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Breakfast consisted of baked beans and toast after which we headed to the banks of the Limpopo River about 20 meters from our campsite. The Limpopo River is the setting of a children’s short story by Rudyard Kipling called the “The Elephants Child” and it was a favorite of Is’ and hence our determination to get to it. We explored the bank and all the tracks on it and decided to head back using the “main” dirt road that connected all the campsites. A troop of baboons was encountered and out of pure fear, we dashed for the river, picking up sticks along the way to defend ourselves. Later in the day, Thomas described the feeling of being prey and that’s exactly what I was feeling. Although we were never in any real danger, a troop of baboons is capable of killing a leopard and all we had to defend ourselves was termite-infested twigs. It was terrifying. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAy5VV9fwNd-wLX_jMplRoCLLxUCBFvN7tve7G72xlfBtKHME27K3ul2oB52F00NJuF3ptLvxjxS24vMHVe6wcEOcgiFvWGL25nZzeP_DUN00FCCq7UYhfI0JXRK6HGOaiZWbArPq9y61G/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAy5VV9fwNd-wLX_jMplRoCLLxUCBFvN7tve7G72xlfBtKHME27K3ul2oB52F00NJuF3ptLvxjxS24vMHVe6wcEOcgiFvWGL25nZzeP_DUN00FCCq7UYhfI0JXRK6HGOaiZWbArPq9y61G/s400/DSC_0031.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the banks of the Limpopo River</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Because we didn’t have a 4WD, we had to take a longer route to Tuli Safari Lodge for our game drive and that took us 2 painstaking hours to complete. The place itself was the epitome of safari luxury with tree hyrax, duikers, warthogs, and glossy ibis roaming watered grass gardens and lounges that must have cost a fortune to construct. That’s not the best description, but imagine a safari lodge where someone would go for an expensive honeymoon. That’s what this place was. Also, funny how that was the first time I had seen green grass in Botswana; in a luxury lodge surrounded by rough dry terrain. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJlnEUeMvZDvRB7JKuG7uzA_bDyRiLbBqO5ECpNpYbVGwb1IMU55VR75LljpnXzWxA-nQP0mHNrHzQEVOtZekW7YVB_VqFc_uFld-t0X0mBA23dtFuqbBtm9FiZ-cY4Nsno5B5E8vbGYt/s1600/DSC_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJlnEUeMvZDvRB7JKuG7uzA_bDyRiLbBqO5ECpNpYbVGwb1IMU55VR75LljpnXzWxA-nQP0mHNrHzQEVOtZekW7YVB_VqFc_uFld-t0X0mBA23dtFuqbBtm9FiZ-cY4Nsno5B5E8vbGYt/s400/DSC_0096.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuli Safri Lodge vehicles</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPbmDcwBCW4x4EpNVWJr5LIIjGcnvA9ud6Y5crbj8miiPV79hAbEMNw2niFHfrAW4mJvSJeaRR1EaaV55Mavrc0A5kOhQ89yMjN1KM4fIjRwY9e68UkzZxNyU0Mbayh05ZTynrmWBT41SK/s1600/DSC_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPbmDcwBCW4x4EpNVWJr5LIIjGcnvA9ud6Y5crbj8miiPV79hAbEMNw2niFHfrAW4mJvSJeaRR1EaaV55Mavrc0A5kOhQ89yMjN1KM4fIjRwY9e68UkzZxNyU0Mbayh05ZTynrmWBT41SK/s400/DSC_0065.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A shy steenbok we encountered on our way to Tuli</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLsoUSjBIi1X59vEZQ7BkeuP4JEqdA-izDDcAx_PcmbbsHhhENe5lJbCQPzeJJ-dieIdcOeQxTA3tuGFSA-rqdM61XDCVTgHvOLo3Vbe72nYGV0NHBoVxxboQDGL40bJ4y5gxCVyvACAg/s1600/DSC_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLsoUSjBIi1X59vEZQ7BkeuP4JEqdA-izDDcAx_PcmbbsHhhENe5lJbCQPzeJJ-dieIdcOeQxTA3tuGFSA-rqdM61XDCVTgHvOLo3Vbe72nYGV0NHBoVxxboQDGL40bJ4y5gxCVyvACAg/s400/DSC_0083.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tree hyrax</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The night drive turned out to be impossible because one of the safari cars had broken down and so we chose to do a 4-hour evening drive instead and that turned out to be a pretty good choice. It was a real game drive experience in the sense that there wasn’t a dense population of wildlife and the guide actually had to look for tracks to locate some things. The first antelope species we saw was the rare and elusive Klipspringer. After, we saw 2 male elephants that fake charged us on 2 separate occasions and it was quite the scare. The guide knew the elephant was just posturing and made no attempt to flee. We sort of just sat their in our open top safari car as the elephant flapped its ears, skipped towards us, trumpeted, and kicked up dust.</span> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvI2hnjsMxCDwku21YZewrJqsk5Z91IpO7DfPmZlEa6Zp5Ec8i4ILkdxI1FYWOo10rU5_GVLKI_lPlfCraRXmbwEDgSPOyh6ubs2-NmHvCYQ8-pOtbUfcHlZZCjIWHbfOjERWlfsHLKqy/s1600/DSC_0147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvI2hnjsMxCDwku21YZewrJqsk5Z91IpO7DfPmZlEa6Zp5Ec8i4ILkdxI1FYWOo10rU5_GVLKI_lPlfCraRXmbwEDgSPOyh6ubs2-NmHvCYQ8-pOtbUfcHlZZCjIWHbfOjERWlfsHLKqy/s400/DSC_0147.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Large posturing male elephant. We were on an elevated safari vehicle and he stood taller than us.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Other game included Burchell’s zebra, blue wildebeest, giraffes, eland (africa’s largest antelope species), steenbok, the kori bustard (africa’s largest flying bird. It looks like a pterodactyl on takeoff), ostrich, and porcupines. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAk5OTs1OY-4JWlh3kSUKLx86zwTV5RJwRAiO1TBA18p_wH9W9vxiiAMn0p1M3G6xfcoVeexZh5lWLRvF2Uuhox7OQd-jACJGwoclmgIT5GoQqNQGDlsbs6ME22KVcBJ29Do1Ei2gW3LFi/s1600/DSC_0171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAk5OTs1OY-4JWlh3kSUKLx86zwTV5RJwRAiO1TBA18p_wH9W9vxiiAMn0p1M3G6xfcoVeexZh5lWLRvF2Uuhox7OQd-jACJGwoclmgIT5GoQqNQGDlsbs6ME22KVcBJ29Do1Ei2gW3LFi/s400/DSC_0171.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dirty Burchell's zebra</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But it was our first sighting of a cackle of spotted hyenas at their den that stole the day. It was already dark when they were spotted but we probably sat there for a good 20 minutes getting insight into the lives of these despised scavengers. The scene seemed to be that the older hyenas were going out for a hunt and a mama was telling her cub to stay put in a cave under the watchful eye of a baby sitter. As the larger hyenas left, the cub came out of the den and started yelping and so all the hyenas returned and that’s when we left. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_LV_vwpYCtfqoAQ-IyowrlPzdMBQlP_u-xaCHhZLfXqhZrK-iugtKeV-hTSjNS0Zi_pH5oeP3rHal6JlHUdmP6jNJJGgEadRifKZJ6lVQ8i8otXuVeh38Z3XrtNToHXmvT2f4O8n1Syz-/s1600/DSC_0233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_LV_vwpYCtfqoAQ-IyowrlPzdMBQlP_u-xaCHhZLfXqhZrK-iugtKeV-hTSjNS0Zi_pH5oeP3rHal6JlHUdmP6jNJJGgEadRifKZJ6lVQ8i8otXuVeh38Z3XrtNToHXmvT2f4O8n1Syz-/s400/DSC_0233.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spotted Hyena den</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o3KTAfbIWUrgYwP85sqdufI4v_sm2zIq193LsVN7Kf1l7sBNynE0UfV1atr9nEVhHJSB3RutJm-XTpozmWiPTqa6Wnvn_D3hBSISNDtmFy8ZC2L2eFVwDKi06uEIB3OljxXlI5Z5B4Nq/s1600/DSC_0243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o3KTAfbIWUrgYwP85sqdufI4v_sm2zIq193LsVN7Kf1l7sBNynE0UfV1atr9nEVhHJSB3RutJm-XTpozmWiPTqa6Wnvn_D3hBSISNDtmFy8ZC2L2eFVwDKi06uEIB3OljxXlI5Z5B4Nq/s400/DSC_0243.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cub</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniB5IAVMQ3y-jJL-ZcmUbUrJGWE7sNmEEa4-blmmO4JrpF6xDWHOAMVYskhvMX4hWcKVZdtdomMx_etf93GlB3F0bseYm8UW2-WT8kVgwfwWdM7VBPVN40mOT_hme2f2IbkclNAjnN397/s1600/DSC_0247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniB5IAVMQ3y-jJL-ZcmUbUrJGWE7sNmEEa4-blmmO4JrpF6xDWHOAMVYskhvMX4hWcKVZdtdomMx_etf93GlB3F0bseYm8UW2-WT8kVgwfwWdM7VBPVN40mOT_hme2f2IbkclNAjnN397/s400/DSC_0247.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The smaller one was intrigued by his shadow</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQY8CzhR5oWOfWIdafrzD9nuiID8wyRvyk5_6RFPbY9b4h58SkwQFfnQWAMNGRUWEz-Eh5gMRw_i8zUobaortrtRRXZ97dVS9mYz7M2pCDBYmd3nXiatxhAmlAU9EBBjVp-GrVvEQxchwk/s1600/DSC_0277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQY8CzhR5oWOfWIdafrzD9nuiID8wyRvyk5_6RFPbY9b4h58SkwQFfnQWAMNGRUWEz-Eh5gMRw_i8zUobaortrtRRXZ97dVS9mYz7M2pCDBYmd3nXiatxhAmlAU9EBBjVp-GrVvEQxchwk/s400/DSC_0277.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cub in the cave on the left and the babysitter on the right.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">By the time we returned to our campsite, our half tank of fuel had been reduced to 1 tiny bar just above the dreaded E for EMPTY. The closest gas station was in Bobonong about 100 km away and so we basically had to do that distance in 1 bar of fuel or get stuck in the middle of nowhere. Things were pretty tense. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our last meal of basmati rice and vegetable curry and hit the sack. We woke in the morning only to find that some other type of animal had been basically sniffing out Thomas as he slept and the tracks determined that it was a mongoose. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">About a quarter of the way back to Bobonong, the fuel dial fell below the E and then went even lower, all the way down to the filliing station visual: That’s the lowest Ive ever seen a dial go. Thankfully our car served us well and made it all the way to Bobonong where we filled a quarter of the tank. By the time we got to Francistown, the dial was below E again. We basically spent the same amount on fuel as we did on renting the car. Ridiculous. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the end, although we didn’t see any leopards or bushbabies, surprise elephant herds, a scorpion, elephant charges, and hyenas made this weekend well worth it. This coming weekend is a 4-day weekend and we will be enjoying our midsummer retreat where we discuss the successes and failures of the project thus far in the presence of the entire team. The location is Maun and the Okavango Delta so be ready for some insaneeeee pictures. For those of you who don’t know what the Okavango Delta is, watch the “Great Plains” or “Pole to Pole” episodes in the BBC Planet Earth series. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
For an update on work related news, Isabelle and I started our job-profiling project to bring some structure and accountability to the organization. The organization also had their annual general meeting on Wednesday and it was quite the scene. Elections took place for the board members and more than 200 people turned up in the office yard to vote. In the end, the board members with the majority won in the most democratic manner: 2 candidates were running and each stood on opposing sides of the yard and people just picked which side to stand on. Heads were counted and the winning side hounded the opposition out of the yard. People then proceeded to cheer feverishly for about an hour after which it all fizzled out. And that’s how all AGMs should be conducted. Also, the midsummer report for QPID Projects should be completed by the end of this week and so if you’d like to know what QPID Ghana, and QPID Nunavut have been up to, let me know and Ill get you a copy. Stay tuned. </span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">PS everyone should be looking into doing 67 minutes of good on July 18<sup>th</sup> to mark Nelson Mandela Day. More to follow on this. </span></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-75787885439756855842011-07-07T11:05:00.000-07:002011-07-07T14:10:19.656-07:00Kubu Island, Makgadikgadi Pans<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Ill be recapping the weekend of July 1<sup>st</sup>-July 3<sup>rd</sup> where we traveled to the Makgadikgadi Salt Pans to camp at Lekhubu Island and honestly, its going to be impossible to bring justice to what we saw. I’m not trying to be corny by saying that. It’s actually hard to describe the sights because they were incomparable to any place else on this Earth. Here’s what the Lonely Planet Guide to Botswana and Namibia had to say about this place: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 36pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">“The Sowa, Nxai, and Ntwetwe Pans collectively comprise the 12,000-sq-km Makgadikgadi Pans. During the sizzling heat of late winter, the stark pans take on a disorienting and ethereal austerity. Heat mirages destroy the senses as imaginary lakes shimmer and disappear, ostriches take flight, and stones turn to mountains and float in mid-air.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ethereal austerity??? Flying ostriches and floating mountains??? :/</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And this is what the book had to say about traveling on the pans:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 36pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Prospective drivers should keep in mind that salt pans can have a mesmerizing effect, and even create a sense of unfettered freedom. Once you drive out onto the salt, remember that direction, connection, reason and common sense appear to dissolve. Although you may be tempted to speed off with wild abandon into the white and empty distance, exercise caution and restrain yourself. You should be aware of where you are at all times by using a map and compass (GPS units are not foolproof)"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The book basically said that this place was a major mind trip. And it really was. Here is how things played out:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After weeks upon weeks of desperately searching for a car (calling FOR SALE ads and seeing if people would give us their car for the weekend. Crazy cheap university students…), Thomas’ host Mots allowed us to take one of his cars. It was Sir Seretse Khama Day on Friday July 1st and so while you Canadians were enjoying your long weekend, we were too. It was decided that for meals, guys were going to cook lunch and dinner on Friday and girls would cover all the meals on the next day but this spiraled into a major competition of the sexes. We bought approximately 500-pula worth of food for the long weekend and headed off towards the mining town of Orapa. Thomas was driving on the left for the first time and I was the only one who had driven on the left side before so I got automatic Shotgun. I was uber-tense early on, but Tom adjusted really fast and we reached the village of Matshumo in just over 2 hours covering a distance of 220 km. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At the Gaing-O Community Trust office (Kubu Island is a community based project), we were told that our Toyota Windom (the Japanese made equivalent of a Lexus ES) was wayyyy too low to make it onto the salt pans…bummer. We were told we had to first pay up so that the 1 beaten up office truck could go to the closest gas station 2 hours away and get gas for our trip. 3 hours later at 5:45PM with the sun setting, after our patience had worn super thin, our truck arrived and we were off (again in the back of a pickup truck). The first 30 minutes of our experience were spent trying to stay as far away from the sides of the truck as the driver had no care in the world that he was driving through ultra dense thorn bushes with unprotected passengers sitting in the back. The “road” was nothing more than a rock/sand path often taken by 4WDs and here we were in our pickup cruising at 70kmph. It was absolutely terrifying knowing that we were surrounded by needle sharp thorns but for some reason we were all too giddy and just loving life.</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As soon as we broke out of the dense bush, the salt pans started and everyone just sort of lost their “cool”. The sky blanketed us with sunset hues and all we could see ahead of us was flat pans. Coupled with the smell of salt and the emerging constellations, it was all a little overwhelming. During the next 40 km to Lekhubu Island, this part of the earth descended into darkness and we were left in awe by the streak of the Milky Way across the sky. Its kind of funny because this was a simple truck ride to our destination and we were left without words and we still hadn’t seen the pans (it was too dark).</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is what the Lonely Planet book described Kubu Island, “Along the southwestern edge of Sowa Pan is this ghostly, baobab-laden rock, which is entirely surrounded by a sea of salt.” Its nature is such that the average tourist doesn’t come here because the island has no wildlife sightings to offer apart a small brown hyena population that calls this place home. We were greeted to Lekhubu Island by a starlit gigantic baobab tree and were shown to our campsite (Camp Impala 11) where we set up camp, started our fire and got down to the business of dinner. Thomas and I served cheese bread, and grilled peri-peri chicken salad and it was probably better than anything I could put together in a fully functioning kitchen. We concluded our meal with banana boats, and marshmallows and hit the sack after some fireside chitchat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On Saturday, we woke up at 7AM and headed straight to the island shores and then onto the lake where, 10,000 years ago, there was water. The pans are covered in a layer of salt and appear really dry but the soil under the salt is moist. We had some fun with sunrise photography after which the girls went back to the campsite to prepare breakfast and Thomas and I went exploring.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcw38GSs_4a3LkZgli7dlLqfOysUEl_iNUByWLFKyoAJb-OQgK5Th_aLXQwXO410yPqKJ3dadTprKvKQkBsCSQp6lHlsQEbHctnVXB_NFLQfDhC6H1sMHjYiJXOT9saJymvrKjN8lrGWcK/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcw38GSs_4a3LkZgli7dlLqfOysUEl_iNUByWLFKyoAJb-OQgK5Th_aLXQwXO410yPqKJ3dadTprKvKQkBsCSQp6lHlsQEbHctnVXB_NFLQfDhC6H1sMHjYiJXOT9saJymvrKjN8lrGWcK/s400/DSC_0025.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first real site of the salt pans at sunrise. That granite boulder became our go to place for much of the trip. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNFh0XcjQFg5qo4zFpYhJ0v7Xzxej0BqY_XtuDTF1eh1LPnlORZZBBWt2qkO0f8J8KjSpNkniKISkAbVr9zPf2Zq_ssBi7EdZJsRLDnGlDpclxhiPrqjXUtSZvrsK3r7aEUZgSeKcgu3T/s1600/DSC_0099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNFh0XcjQFg5qo4zFpYhJ0v7Xzxej0BqY_XtuDTF1eh1LPnlORZZBBWt2qkO0f8J8KjSpNkniKISkAbVr9zPf2Zq_ssBi7EdZJsRLDnGlDpclxhiPrqjXUtSZvrsK3r7aEUZgSeKcgu3T/s400/DSC_0099.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas "ascending"</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 2 hours later, we returned to find that our breakfast of cinnamon buns had gone cold. We grabbed some water and headed out to explore the island. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutwJ0NVWFCGGoDlGT6QAwwJynHoK59mVfECrRpsXWYUjW5-CIaSFGcTfuSJRvjMqRQZzDr0wjlN4Mz9BLE2iit7kxXKvdOzUIZv0byQWjjlmjZvhY0-Fs9LRD6dvc7BFw0BoSpqZ4MJtN/s1600/DSC_0287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutwJ0NVWFCGGoDlGT6QAwwJynHoK59mVfECrRpsXWYUjW5-CIaSFGcTfuSJRvjMqRQZzDr0wjlN4Mz9BLE2iit7kxXKvdOzUIZv0byQWjjlmjZvhY0-Fs9LRD6dvc7BFw0BoSpqZ4MJtN/s400/DSC_0287.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp Impala 11</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is where it becomes really hard to describe. The salt pans stretched beyond the horizon where the heat mirages just blurred everything. We all decided to walk in different directions and I came to the point where I lost sight of everyone else and stumbled onto a field of tracks leading to one spot, possibly a watering hole in the summer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tracks leading to one place</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brown Hyena tracks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYq7OAQgfJxXa3KpWlFHkdWhaaOzJbcstTeRRlsLO34zw3RcCCNNrUjLfFHUtr1Pg_2UCDQdzQKDaa4SFDs-O6dVZ-WFNmi66rZLW5Iq_ckdCmsBoO_drJqG9l6GDisRZ-86yHZMr5VH5/s1600/DSC_0156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYq7OAQgfJxXa3KpWlFHkdWhaaOzJbcstTeRRlsLO34zw3RcCCNNrUjLfFHUtr1Pg_2UCDQdzQKDaa4SFDs-O6dVZ-WFNmi66rZLW5Iq_ckdCmsBoO_drJqG9l6GDisRZ-86yHZMr5VH5/s400/DSC_0156.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you enlarge the picture, you'll see Iz and Thomas on the horizon. This stretched for miles around us</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After about 2 hours just out on the salt pans, we returned to the island and perched ourselves on the highest point and just admired our surroundings. We unknowingly also explored “the shrine” which is a cave type place that is spiritually important to the locals. San ancestors used to believe that their God lived under the rocks. The boundary wall of a settlement from the Great Zimbabwean empire was also explored. The island was last inhabited 500 years ago but before that, there had been San people here for 30,000 years and there are artefacts from the Stone and Iron Age though we weren’t able to spot any. The baobab trees were also quite the site. They are referred to as the “upside-down” trees, were the residence of the King lemur from Madagascar, and are just so unique. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A large baobab tree. The baobab fruit has an extremely hard shell but a powdery white inside that tastes sour. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjA4kD0Zie9WFiRPWA07n7r60He5i6BbYs5gayoC-wGtyu5mbvLV6Arcyo65usaqgoBnrGdteRzNvU2Tm1_l8Cu_Mk8Y7KvDAdx4KTz8JGpudQxjJ4HBS3sc89vSMMUKHOexYTeerXbxbj/s1600/DSCF0919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjA4kD0Zie9WFiRPWA07n7r60He5i6BbYs5gayoC-wGtyu5mbvLV6Arcyo65usaqgoBnrGdteRzNvU2Tm1_l8Cu_Mk8Y7KvDAdx4KTz8JGpudQxjJ4HBS3sc89vSMMUKHOexYTeerXbxbj/s400/DSCF0919.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The huge baobab that greets all visitors upon arrival. This thing was so big that it was near impossible to get it all in the shot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We returned to the openness of the pans for the sunset though it didn’t compare to the sunset over Namibia, it was still pretty magical. The new moon also decided to make an appearance and that was pretty significant for me as a Muslim as it reminded me that in just a month, Ramadan would be starting.</span> </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite picture</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We returned to the campsite where the girls literally blew the “cooking competition” out of the water. We were served with a delightful meal consisting of garlic bread, pasta with tomato basil sauce, steamed/grilled vegetables, and another vegetable dish with zucchinis, mushrooms, red peppers, and carrots all made on the spot with no previous preparation. The girls had won the competition hands down.</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After dinner, we decided to wander out onto the pans and do some stargazing. We had barely made it past the shore of the island when we decided that it would be too dangerous for us to go any further. After about 40 minutes, and after a round of laughter, we heard growling sounds coming from the darkness and everyone jumped up and headed back from the island. Having seen hyena tracks earlier on in the day, and there being a lack of other large predators, we concluded that we had been scared off the pans by brown hyenas. Makes for a better story too.</span> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfe-wrX43FOC6y8Lqcb6wuwz4Hmt_2AeKIL_E6QUP_a6ONQzkZRPVNL3DtG9b4mZAVdybouYid-munjW4uBacnOLmDD4QVKhE9hTj1zQ2h-ZTYedcjPyCHJV5AoQcjZ_lafoeg22OMgeQw/s1600/DSC_0485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfe-wrX43FOC6y8Lqcb6wuwz4Hmt_2AeKIL_E6QUP_a6ONQzkZRPVNL3DtG9b4mZAVdybouYid-munjW4uBacnOLmDD4QVKhE9hTj1zQ2h-ZTYedcjPyCHJV5AoQcjZ_lafoeg22OMgeQw/s400/DSC_0485.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">high ISO, low shutter speed. This picture still doesn't do justice to the stars we saw</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next morning we woke at 5:45, saw the sunrise from atop some large granite boulders, and packed up. I don’t know how many of you used Word Art in Microsoft Word to try and make fancy headers and titles, but the “dawn” shades that were used as color filling were an exact depiction of what the sky looked like that morning... Driving back to Matshumo was just exciting as getting there and by 1PM we were back in Francistown. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Reading over this post makes me realize that unless you go to this place yourself, you wont comprehend how magical and unreal this place actually was. If you want a video of what the place is like, watch the Top Gear episode where they try and cross the Makgakgadi Pans and camp at Kubu Island.</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We’re planning on going to Tuli Block this weekend to try and spot the elusive leopard, and bush babies. Will post on Tuesday. Stay tuned and take care. </span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-73625271974125107592011-07-06T23:50:00.000-07:002011-07-06T23:57:51.118-07:00True Men<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So far, all my posts have been about some pretty awesome adventures, mishaps and what not, but they only represent the happenings of weekends. For the other 5 days of the week, the QPID Bots team works 8 to 5 and I just wanted to share a little about the work experience which may not be as exciting as our weekends, but more valuable than any sort of sightseeing. I touched on all this stuff at the end of my first post but being here for a while has given me a better understanding of the situation and purpose of the organization I’m at. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> Let me start with an overview of how everything played out. Brace yourselves (or skip over this one) for a more serious post:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The first time I heard of the position of cooperant with Queen’s Project on International Development was during frosh week back in 2009 where the club had a booth at an event that was meant to introduce us newbies to the various engineering related clubs and design teams. The thought of spending the summer working in a foreign country was enticing but it was a thought that was looking too far into the future and at the time, I needed to focus on settling into my new environment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Second year rolled around and I decided to get more involved in clubs and really make good use of the opportunities. Becoming a cooperant for QPID seemed like a pretty big challenge but the summer experience looked too good to pass up. The project locations were Nunavut, Ghana, and Botswana and right away, Nunavut was eliminated because I would not have been able to endure a cold “summer”. I applied at the end of October 2010 and was thankfully hired for Bots after passing the application review, selection day, and interview. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">November through to beginning of May was spent preparing for the QPID Botswana Project along with the 3 other cooperants (Isabelle (my cooperant partner), Chloe, and Lyndsay), the site director (Thomas), the project manager (Davina), and the rest of the QPID Projects team. Ghana and Nunavut have been long running QPID projects but Botswana was a new location and so no one was sure of what to expect which made everything a lot more adventurous and exciting. We arrived in Botswana on June 9<sup>th</sup>, and started work on the 15<sup>th</sup>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chloe and Lyndsay work in Kasane at a human rights organization by the name of Ditshwanelo and Thomas, Is, and I work at an HIV/AIDS organization based in Francistown by the name of True Men Trust. To understand the kind of work this organization does, you first need to understand the seriousness of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Botswana:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The country has a population of approximately 1.9 million (which is tiny considering its size) and more than 300,000 people are HIV+. Looking at percentages, 24.2% of the population between 15 and 49 years of age is HIV+. That is the second highest rate of HIV infection with only Swaziland having a larger percentage of a population that is HIV+ (keep in mind that Swaziland has a population of 1.1 million). Based on the visual below (which I took from Gapminder World by Hans Rosling), you can see that the life expectancy of the average Batswana dropped from 64 years in 1989-1991 to 49 years in 2002.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">In Gapminder, this visual was titled, "The rise, fall, and rise of health in Botswana"</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2002 is when the government started implementing programs to deal with HIV/AIDS and these included PMTCT programs and subsidized ART. In fact, Botswana is only one of 9 countries in the world that provides above 75% coverage of anti-retroviral medication. The life expectancy is on the rise indicating that major steps are being taken to combat the virus but there are still huge challenges being faced. The biggest and most difficult to overcome is trying to change people’s behaviors and attitudes that are commonly associated with “culture” and that is one of the main focuses of True Men. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">True Men currently runs three main projects, each with a global funder:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The PMTCT program is funded by Pathfinder International and targets the issue of mother to child transmission. True Men employs around 15 peer mothers who spend their days at various antenatal clinics around the city. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>RTI funds a program targeting commercial sex workers and the truck drivers that commercial sex workers cater to. The reason for this is that HIV rates are much higher along trucking routes like the ones through Francistown and its primarily because truckers have to spend excessively long times on the road and waiting for paper approvals at borders and consequently entertain themselves with commercial sex workers. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>BNAPS funds a program that targets the issue of multiple concurrent partnerships (MCP) and this, in my opinion, is the most important project. The reason for this is that many people here believe that it is culturally acceptable to be in multiple concurrent partnerships but this leads to dangerously large sexual networks where if one person contracts HIV, the entire network of sexual partners is affected. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At True Men, our work is very self-directed when we’re not working with the project directors. No one will tell you what you are supposed to be doing so we have to constantly remind ourselves that though no one is bossing us around, there is a lot to be done. We have a list of projects that we have in mind that would increase the effectiveness of the organization and we plan to implement them throughout the summer. Our first major assignment was to conduct workshops for the peer educators in the RTI and BNAPS projects. The workshops, which were conducted on June 29<sup>th</sup> and June 30<sup>th</sup>, were a great success and covered the topics of counseling skills, group counseling, professionalism, presentation skills, communication skills, sensitivity training, and mental preparation where each intern presented on a subject of competency. I presented on the topic of mental preparation and covered techniques to prepare the mind for a client meeting. We tried to keep the workshop as interactive as possible and included scenario/case study practice as well as a debate type exercise. The director had also asked for a post-workshop assessment and so that is what we had been working on this week. For our next assignment, we plan on working on an internal development project to bring transparency and structure to the organization. Having already visited antenatal clinics for introductions, we’ll also be starting some fieldwork of our own by accompanying peer educators and seeing how community interactions take place. Lets see how everything goes. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-LKE8hRz_r7LlHtvMAbD2AdI_MnrSbU6LHGdxiBtCaoRoGH9OSjbVgjCN5Bp7iFYQhrasMmL_6AYqxaH4fATAYUdEghm0IDeAjdG3YKC2c0Ck5SPJDQbKyrdqjXfosQid6dZeffP9yYh/s1600/DSCF0849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-LKE8hRz_r7LlHtvMAbD2AdI_MnrSbU6LHGdxiBtCaoRoGH9OSjbVgjCN5Bp7iFYQhrasMmL_6AYqxaH4fATAYUdEghm0IDeAjdG3YKC2c0Ck5SPJDQbKyrdqjXfosQid6dZeffP9yYh/s400/DSCF0849.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The guys that work at the headquarters. The ladies weren't invited to this photo shoot. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ill start to include work updates at the end of my posts if anything super interesting happens. If you have any questions queries, concerns, let me know. </span></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-53120788490858234132011-06-28T03:23:00.000-07:002011-06-28T03:23:38.792-07:00Khama Rhino Sanctuary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For the weekend (June 25<sup>th</sup>-26<sup>th</sup>) that just passed, the QPID Bots team had planned on going to Tuli Block. The Tuli Game Reserve (makes up Tuli Block) is a collection of private reserves located in the far Eastern corner of Botswana and it was our preferred destination because of its proximity to the Limpopo River (which Iz is desperately trying to visit), black-mane lions (Scar from the Lion King), and night drives (which aren’t conducted in the national parks). We started planning the trip the weekend before when we were in Bobonong and so had a pretty good idea of how things were to play out. As has been the trend, whenever we plan something, nothing goes as it is supposed to… and come Thursday evening, Tuli Block was a no go. Iz and I quickly whipped together a plan for a trip to Khama Rhino Sanctuary and because there was no accommodation (campsite) available, we had to figure out how to effectively get there and back using public transport in one day. Looking back on it, if we had stuck to that plan, we would have flopped hard…</span></div><style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When Chloe and Lyndsay arrived on Friday, we went for some delicious pretty authentic Indian dining and desperately tried to get our hands on a car to make travelling easier. Things got so desperate that we resorted to calling FOR SALE advertisements and begging the owners to allow us to take their car for the weekend. Im sad to say that though our phone calls were entertaining, no one wanted to give their cars to a bunch of foreign students….I wonder why…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then, the Legend of Chloe turned up and decided that there was no way in hell she wasn’t spending the night in Khama Rhino Sanctuary. Where Iz and I had failed at securing accommodation the day before, Chloe squeezed out a campsite at KRS through pure persistence that we just needed a piece of land where we could pitch our tent. After arriving at Khama, we realized how legendary Chloe actually was because for a camp with 18 campsites, the place was bumping (in a camping sense)! We were actually squeezed into the sanctuary, but that turned out to be a pretty big blessing….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You can sort of refer to the map of Eastern Botswana posted earlier for this next paragraph or skip it entirely because it’s about getting to KRS. FUN! The Khama Rhino Sanctuary is located in the bottom center of the map but the actual route we took is cutoff. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">7:30- we took our first ever combi ride to the bus rank. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">8:00-Got on the bus to Gabarone again and got off at Palapye 165 km away from the Ghetto</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I lost track of time after that but in Palapye we tried to get our hands on a map because up until then we were travelling blind. We got on a bus to Serowe from Palapye with an idea of which direction we were to take but none on what mode of transport would get us there. At the Serowe bus rank, while in search for a taxi to get a quote, I spotted a man wearing some KRS clothing. He couldn’t take us to the sanctuary because he had to run some errands but ended up letting us ride in the back of his truck (best mode of transport EVER!) all the way to a bus stop where he handed us off to a lady that worked at the sanctuary. We hopped on the bus headed to Orapa through Paje and got off at the gates of the Khama Rhino Sanctuary at around 1:30PM. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If you’d like to know more about the Khama Rhino Sanctuary, please visit <a href="http://www.khamarhinosanctuary.com/">www.khamarhinosanctuary.com </a>but just for an overview, it was established to rescue the rhino population in Botswana that was hunted to the brink of extinction. The sanctuary is a fenced in area covering 4300 hectares and maintained by the 4 surrounding villages and the only place in Botswana to find the black rhino. It houses between 30 and 40 white rhino and 4 black rhinos and it’s because of KRS efforts that a handful of white rhinos have been reintroduced into other parks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The only way to reach the campsites is by car and so we were a pretty hopeless bunch. Everyone else we saw seemed to be the frikkin rich khaki donning camper types as they had pimped out safari trucks that had off-the-ground tents with ladders and whatnot. We waited for a KRS truck and hitched a ride to our campsite. After admiring the setting, and other people’s “tents”, we set up our ghetto Canadian Tire type tent and proceeded to devour rye bread and Pralinutta ( A copy of nutella) sandwiches. A man in a supercool 4X4 expedition truck pulled into our campsite and asked us if we would be willing to move to a different campsite. He was a South African safari tour operator and wanted us to move close to his campsite because the other group there was too big and would have cramped up his group of people. We willfully agreed and so we moved. But it wasn’t the usual get-in-the-back-of-the-truck moving: The guy’s car only had storage space and no passenger seats and so he suggested that we ride ON TOP of his truck. And that is exactly what we did. It was like riding an overgrown male elephant. That’s the furthest Id been off the ground since flying into Francistown and so I was prettyyy scared.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We setup our tent for the second time and set out collecting firewood before our 4PM game drive. After about an hour of foraging in extremely dry bush, we were picked up by our guide OJ and headed out for some game viewing. There were sightings of impala, eland, gemsbok, springbok, Burchell’s zebra, blue wildebeest, ostriches, and a number of other bird species. </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0Wd8t94nHOlcnW4B7UyjvwVt39k-TnlqUI76v0mH6A1h47sKoXrPmkNB81v65gdwj1k-qQGo7uDDjyXBEIRc3FJRhUCQ2R7d5b9BF9xSZbV7Nwu2xy2m-bf1m24ZJBiWi8iIbYWmqKS4/s1600/DSC_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0Wd8t94nHOlcnW4B7UyjvwVt39k-TnlqUI76v0mH6A1h47sKoXrPmkNB81v65gdwj1k-qQGo7uDDjyXBEIRc3FJRhUCQ2R7d5b9BF9xSZbV7Nwu2xy2m-bf1m24ZJBiWi8iIbYWmqKS4/s400/DSC_0093.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A cohort of Burchell's zebra at a watering hole </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82Iuz2an3_UT7ja-U4Ue5W5QSQ2v5bUnQ7oyy20wWoWaRyRknqmgodDDgmugOGf57k_wiKaf7tLAKO7oodEL1zx-kjhLdl3BW__9MLn9eHqMZjE-LNdWieeDvHpmqi9oDDFZCSliRYQjW/s1600/DSC_0077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82Iuz2an3_UT7ja-U4Ue5W5QSQ2v5bUnQ7oyy20wWoWaRyRknqmgodDDgmugOGf57k_wiKaf7tLAKO7oodEL1zx-kjhLdl3BW__9MLn9eHqMZjE-LNdWieeDvHpmqi9oDDFZCSliRYQjW/s400/DSC_0077.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A female ostrich closely guarding her foraging offspring</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAmcvC8shrZ593JeVlFc8zBjhVuKZiKLms5OPwgfA0GthuXIqOD30UKUielugtyzlnm1wJCiPZLCK1fC58fhaL5u6HlaTOdIivh7AUXnw3xNbJ86g0TMCyzenvfSMPh1uGLsFNDM-xWnul/s1600/DSC_0148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAmcvC8shrZ593JeVlFc8zBjhVuKZiKLms5OPwgfA0GthuXIqOD30UKUielugtyzlnm1wJCiPZLCK1fC58fhaL5u6HlaTOdIivh7AUXnw3xNbJ86g0TMCyzenvfSMPh1uGLsFNDM-xWnul/s400/DSC_0148.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Burchell's zebra at sunset</span></td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But the rhinos easily stole the show. Iz spotted the first way in the distance and it was a HUGE male white rhino trudging along. We then drove to a bird hide where birds were to be anticipated. What turned up was a crash of white rhinos probably 10 meters distance from us. It was incredibly humbling being the presence of such massive and strange looking creatures. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6BdTfiTIgBivurv1dCHr8zAmtYLNUN3l-bUXaORWaFuVCkdaB3z1oCJ0EzBpn33C0TU1nos3sqozyrd1i33rYKTNtolqAe-yvFkCOcthU4w5IrDFrXto5L22AJNMZJBCZY0YhTDXoZ27s/s1600/DSC_0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6BdTfiTIgBivurv1dCHr8zAmtYLNUN3l-bUXaORWaFuVCkdaB3z1oCJ0EzBpn33C0TU1nos3sqozyrd1i33rYKTNtolqAe-yvFkCOcthU4w5IrDFrXto5L22AJNMZJBCZY0YhTDXoZ27s/s400/DSC_0011.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A nervy white rhino</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The rhino is one of those animals we learn to recognize in early development because of its distinctive horns and so seeing a group of them that close up was just so……cool. Unlike the elephants of Chobe, the rhinos were really nervy and fidgety because of our presence. They have good ears and a strong sense of smell and so as soon as our cameras started clicking, they peaced. My memory card decided to fail me and so I lost all my pictures of the game drive up until after the bird hide and so variety in rhino pictures is lacking. We luckily stumbled upon the same group further into our drive and so I got a couple more pics. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3WA2Y5At4ZUK53RHD4ytzRnLoofJPn1d-hne4YeizScToVDARzYo2-dCKKXhrd-21S2xbD2vf1UPbnzBRW4-dnPLERz_Gnz8YSJkWeaw_-hiNhzCDUD2lhMadItQujDVK0AkrN2pstwu/s1600/DSC_0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3WA2Y5At4ZUK53RHD4ytzRnLoofJPn1d-hne4YeizScToVDARzYo2-dCKKXhrd-21S2xbD2vf1UPbnzBRW4-dnPLERz_Gnz8YSJkWeaw_-hiNhzCDUD2lhMadItQujDVK0AkrN2pstwu/s400/DSC_0002.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A crash of 5 white rhinos watching our every move. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately we didn’t spot one of the 4 black rhinos but that was always going to be difficult seeing as they prefer to live in the bush. A girl also notified us that earlier in the morning, by campsite 13 (which is right behind ours), she had seen a mother leopard with 2 cubs……We have now missed the lions of Savuti feasting on an elephant and a mother leopard with her two cubs…bummer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The last half hour of the game drive was painfully cold and so the first thing we did back at our campsite was start a fire. The twigs were so dry that all it took was one matchstick and we had a fully-fledged fire. We set about eating “dinner” and this consisted of sitting on our bums around the fire and roasting hotdogs on twigs we had picked earlier. This was when our tour operator friend showed his appreciation for us moving for him earlier on. He walked over to us and said “ Your dinner looks very lacking. Would you mind doing us a favor and having some of our food?” This was after the guy had provided us with 2 bags of firewood free of cost. His people came about 2 minutes later with a gourmet meal and it rivaled any top notch cooking I’ve had. There was a greek salad with feta cheese, black and green olives, and realll cucumbers, a stew made with delicious potatoes, zucchinis, parsnips, and carrots, and rice that was soft as anything. We followed our gourmet meal with a pretty epic dessert of split banana stuffed with pralinutta (nutella) and marshmallows heated in the fire (this was made by us, not provided by the tour operator). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The fire was put out at around 9:45 and the next half hour was spent admiring the beauty of the night sky. The number of stars rivaled the one I had seen while camping at Lake Manyara in Tanzania though the Milky Way was even more prominent this time round. The sky was so clear that the stars formed a dome that disappeared over the horizon. It was a pleasure seeing this as there are very few places left where urban sprawl hasn’t polluted the sky with its lights. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My sleeping bag had a comfort rating of 2 degrees and an extreme rating of 0 but I was still freeeeezing the whole night. I can’t even imagine what Lyndsay went through with only a blanket to keep her warm. I apparently also sound like a wild animal when I sleep. :/</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the morning, OJ came to pick us up at 7AM. We talked for 20 minutes about the importance of his work and the KRS and reviewed the differences between the black and white rhino. He dropped us off in Paje where he had to run some errands and we were left to hitchhike to Serowe. Vehicles on the road were scarce but the 2<sup>nd</sup> car that rolled by stopped for us and the elderly man driving took us all the way to Palapye. We got off at the Palapye bus rank and just as we walked in, the bus to Ftown pulled in and we were on our way. At 10:15, after what was probably the most efficient use of transport yet, we reached back in Ftown and our adventure came to an end. Success.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Please don’t hesitate to comment. Seriously. Don’t be scared. No one but me cares what you have to say. Don’t be shy. You can even hide your comment from the public. Id just like to know what you think of these posts. More pictures, less writing? SUGGESTIONS PLEASE.</span></span> </div></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-1658187690011723882011-06-23T02:29:00.000-07:002011-06-23T03:49:32.804-07:00The Wise Elephant<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-Ahodk3AH2tG8YVl4HglqzGpxAGcLHWUqiQqixEqQVzXPT3acT_tWMsuQY63AAl0wC3YKhKmjRpEY_OK-MRUmV2AAr87aCYavfIB25F6NFHFRqgGySb4CxzisxMMKDlyyDzotyh93HKD/s1600/DSC_0434.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 440px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-Ahodk3AH2tG8YVl4HglqzGpxAGcLHWUqiQqixEqQVzXPT3acT_tWMsuQY63AAl0wC3YKhKmjRpEY_OK-MRUmV2AAr87aCYavfIB25F6NFHFRqgGySb4CxzisxMMKDlyyDzotyh93HKD/s400/DSC_0434.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621356577015820274" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span class="body">Nature's great masterpiece, an elephant; the only harmless great thing.- John Donne<br />An old mama elephant's expression when her calf was nursing.<br /></span>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-90076345800882005352011-06-22T05:52:00.000-07:002011-06-28T00:06:58.647-07:00In Search of the Chief of Bobonong<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"></div><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">For this post, Im going to recap this past weekend because it basically played out like a tale of adventure (at least to us it did) where luck and the unexpected combined for a dramatic trip:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">For our time in Botswana, we’ve set ourselves the target of seeing or doing something new every weekend. Since this was our first weekend at our homestays and in Francistown, we only wanted to take a daytrip and not wander too far from the Ghetto. Failed plan. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">There was a tiny little paragraph in Thomas’ Lonely Planet Guide about the Lepokole Hills in Eastern Botswana and based on the map provided in the book, they only seemed to be 200km away. It was decided that the Lepokole Hills were going to be our destination for Saturday but we had no real way of getting to the actual Lepokole village because we didn’t have a 4X4 at our disposal. The closest we could get using public transport was Bobonong (25 km from Lepokole village) and even that seemed like a grueling journey. Our options were to either hop on the 9AM bus to Selebi-Phikwe and then catch another bus to Bobonong or to catch the 8AM bus to Gabarone, get off at Serule, find a bus to Selebi-Phikwe, and then catch a bus to Bobonong. (See the map of Eastern Botswana). We wanted to leave as early as possible and decided to get on the 8AM bus to Gabarone. No further thought was put into how to get to Lepokole from Bobonong and we parted ways on Friday after work with the idea that it would be a relaxing weekend and easy travelling. Helll no. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">When notifying our homestays and co-workers of our plans to go to Lepokole, we were strongly advised to ask the permission of the Chief before heading to Lepokole. Mrs. O, Isabelle’s host, told us of people disappearing and strange things happening in the hills and said it was VERY important that we got the chief’s permission. At the time, we didn’t think much of it but wherever we went, people greeted our idea with surprise and shock. To us, meeting the Chief would just add more adventure. Would it ever…..</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">On Saturday, I woke up at 6:30 AM, stomach still full (see My Pregnancy), met up with Iz at 7:15 and headed out to the bus rank in the taxi. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Just for a little explanation on buses and taxis here: There are buses that travel from city to city, there are combis which are vans that travel within the city, and then there are taxis. In taxis you can have either a “special” taxi in which the driver takes you and only you to your destination or you can have the normal taxi where 3 other people who are headed in the same direction accompany you in your taxi. A “special” costs about 20Pula or $3 and the normal taxi costs 3.50P or $00.50. From now on, if I refer to a taxi, I mean the normal taxi because there is no way Im paying $3 to get from A to B when I can pay $.50 to do the same with more company in the car. Its not sketchy like you might think. Trust me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">So back to the real story: We took a taxi to the bus rank which is basically a bus station and waited for Thomas who had a rough morning (His homestay has a motion-sensor triggered alarm which he set off which set the 8 month old baby off). We got on the bus headed for Gabarone with the intention of getting off at Serule and we succeeded. This is where things got real….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Up until Saturday, the sky had been deep blue and there had been no strong winds. At Serule, it was windy, cloudy and FRIKKIN FREEZING. Like actually: it was like a late Ontario fall day. It was so cold that there was talk of turning around and heading back but we persevered. We don’t even know if we were really in Serule either. All it was was a vetinary checkpoint with a gas station and a bus stop. We stood by the Selebi Phikwe turning but the traffic was thin and there were absolutely no buses going in that direction. Hitchhiking was the only option and after about 30 minutes of holding our thumbs out, at 10PM, we got a ride from a VIP type lady who worked in the world’s largest diamond mine in Jwaneng. About 5 minutes into the ride, I noticed that the surroundings were starting to get really blurry. I took a peek at the speedometer and cried a little (truth)…Iz said that’s the most scared she has been in her life... Thankfully we were in some nice VIP type car and the single lane highway was empty and about 30 mins later we arrived at the Selebi-Phikwe bus rank. We got on the bus to Bobonong and were on our way for what seemed like eternity. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">The bus was so old that the entire thing shook whenever the driver shifted gears. The number of little children and fried chicken on the bus was frightening too; every lady seemed to be accompanied by her own child and a plate of friend chicken (Its very popular here). I somehow fell asleep and the rest is whatevs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">At an attempt at being a leader in place of Tom (who was feeling under the weather), I shepherded us off the bus when it stopped by a sign of Bobonong. I now know that executive decisions should be left to Thomas as we ended up getting off 5km too early in an area of Bobonong that was sparsely inhabited. We proceeded to walk along the road where we saw donkey carts and beaten up trucks. People looked at us confused as to why we were there and we looked confused back at them because we really had no idea where we were. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Eventually, we hitchhiked with an old man in an old truck whose English was surprisingly good. The lady from the Jwaneng diamond mine had advised us to go to the police station and her reasoning was that since it was the weekend, the Chief would be at home and the police could take us to him. We were dropped off at the police station and wished luck on our quest to meet the Chief. At the police station, we were told that the Chief was at the RAC or Rural Administration Center and were given directions as to how to get there. His name was Chief Malema, the Chief of Bobonong. As we walked through the town we ran into the old man who had given us a ride to the police station and he was confused as to why we would be interested in Lepokole. “Are you anthropologists, or historians? Why do you want to see the Lepokole hills?” We were just very curious students who wanted to see some anthropological treasures. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">When we reached the RAC, we initially thought that there was a funeral or something because there were a number of men wearing black suits standing the parking lot. As we walked through the gate, a truck with a district council logo that was leaving stopped and the driver got out. He rushed over and greeted us with a hugee smile like he knew exactly who were and told us that “they” were waiting inside. He knew us so well that we even got shoulder checks that are often shared amongst gangsta buddies as a form of greeting. That’s how tight we were. My first thought was that the RAC was expecting some foreigners and that it was just a case of mistaken identity. Another was that the police station had called ahead and notified the people here. Nonetheless, we walked in and when we inquired about Chief Malema we were told to wait while his location was determined. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Eventually a woman guided us through the RAC building into a large yard and this is where our jaws dropped! There were people in suits and traditional formal dresses EVERYWHERE. In the distance, we could see the green berets of a group of boy scouts marching to the sound of drums surrounded by a large crowd. There were a number of classy cars with red number plates pulling into the yard and the lady pointed in their direction. “There is the Chief Malema getting into the car.” My heart sank a little at the thought of not being able to get the permission we were so desperately searching for. The only thing the Chief was giving us at that moment was the site of his back getting into a luxury car. We were assured that he would be back soon and that we could just hang around for the mean time. The next 30 minutes were possibly the most awkward and embarrassing in my life. Here we were three students wearing hiking gear surrounded by dignified men and women in suits wearing tags that said “VIP”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">We met a Peace Corps person there who had just recently moved to Bobonong for her two year stay and she really seemed excited at the sight of my two Caucasian buddies. Then, the lady who had guided us to the site of the Chief’s back introduced us to Ernest and a lady whose name I cannot recall. Ernest was a resident of Lepokole and the official guide to the Lepokole Hills and the lady (lets just call her Susan for simplicity), also a resident of Lepokole, was some sort of assistant to a councilor of Bobonong. While we were busy talking to Ernest about going to Lepokole, Susan decided to call over the councilor and soon enough a very cheerful lady introduced herself as ____ and I will now refer to her as the Councilor. She said that it was not necessary to meet with the Chief and that she could help us out. We told her that we had no way of getting there and so she set out about arranging transport for us before asking us to join her for lunch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">When we inquired about this gathering of very important people, the Councilor told us that we had stumbled upon the launch of the Bobirwa Sub-District Council as well as a ceremony celebrating the handing over of houses to the destitute. It was truly incredible how she treated us as her guests and set about introducing us to other council members and other people of authority. Ironically enough, when we were standing in line to get food, the man right in front of us was the transport minister. Because of the incredibly large meal I had suffered with the night before (see My Pregnancy), I ate very little and when compared to the servings everyone else took, I ate nothing at all. The general behavior here is that one meal in the day is always of epic proportion whereas the other two are kept very light and everyone but us was making this meal that daily meal. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56FNRuqbz4KPn4iEkSVecHO0hKizuW4eu2SjwxMx-kiRuLu5DTAyXsRO5fIXV-JP89OINwR2F-bTsH40XWXqcHdeH8e7uG7UEJ9K6U9HZG1WQiaxdrH0IvGywkDbQ3-4G5GyD0NAl1v_t/s1600/DSCF0852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56FNRuqbz4KPn4iEkSVecHO0hKizuW4eu2SjwxMx-kiRuLu5DTAyXsRO5fIXV-JP89OINwR2F-bTsH40XWXqcHdeH8e7uG7UEJ9K6U9HZG1WQiaxdrH0IvGywkDbQ3-4G5GyD0NAl1v_t/s400/DSCF0852.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dining area at the RAC after most people had left</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqZikFXNNN5zTicUPw-N5LJPITr6ENRNWleOkNogZ20EhgxbMfIo-KmtyCKZ3vxS_kmzep_B1OHIC3HQMYAKAbLsJ3fvl4IpVSvR7v05aZAgd9-Pn_W-IZRzoGh7ZxMICgrazcwmIIjU9/s1600/DSCF0851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqZikFXNNN5zTicUPw-N5LJPITr6ENRNWleOkNogZ20EhgxbMfIo-KmtyCKZ3vxS_kmzep_B1OHIC3HQMYAKAbLsJ3fvl4IpVSvR7v05aZAgd9-Pn_W-IZRzoGh7ZxMICgrazcwmIIjU9/s400/DSCF0851.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Us and the Councilor Woman's (next to me) team</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">People left after having lunch and so we sat around waiting for our transport to arrive. In the end, there was not enough light left in the day to visit the hills and so in the best interest of the team, we ultimately decided to spend the night at a guesthouse in Bobonong. Drained by the events of the day, we were deep asleep by 7:30PM. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Susan had said she would meet us at the bus rank at 7 AM to try and arrange transport to Lepokole and so we were up and running at 6:30AM. We didn’t want to be late and so we took our “breakfast” of fruit and headed to the bus rank. I used my pocketknife to butcher a pineapple and so we all had a sticky breakfast consisting of pineapple, a banana, and a bun. At 8:30AM, Susan greeted us and we started walking in the direction of Lepokole only to walk into the yard of a house. There were 2 elderly ladies doing laundry out in the yard (laundry here is done old school) and we were introduced using our Setswana names (Faisal aka Kabo, Thomas aka Thuso, Isabelle aka Naledi). One of the ladies was the mother of the councilor and the other was the sister in law. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">After about 3 hours, at 11:15AM, the councilor showed up like a boss driving a truck. There was another man, Simone, with her and he would be driving us around for the day. We jumped in the back of the pickup truck, were handed fatcakes (fried dough), and headed out. I sat in the front and at the speed Simone was driving at on the bumpy gravel/dirt road, Im glad I did. We were in a 4X4 and the 25 km journey to the village took about 45 minutes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">The village itself had no concrete houses and every structure was made of clay or wood. Our guide, Liquid (Ernest wasn’t there I guess), took my place and I jumped in the back of the truck for our journey to the hills which we could see in the distance. After about 20 minutes on the bumpiest road yet we reached the foot of the hill and started climbing. The Lepokole Hills basically consist of thorny shrub, granite outcrops, boulders, cattle and are unknown to the tourism industry; Ernest said that he used to get around 10 tourists a MONTH coming to the hills. We did some very chilled out hiking to get to a cave and inside we found 2 cattle workers just escaping the sun. And behind them were the rock paintings we had set out to see. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">The history behind the area is that the last of the San people had come to the Lepokole Hills to preserve their heritage and maintain their ways of life. Apparently there was a lot of activity back in the Stone Age area too and so there is a wealth of archeological stuff in the area. We didn’t really have trained eye and so didn’t spot any spearheads or anything but in that cave, we saw the rock paintings of the San people. From the entrance, there was only clearly visible painting of a male Kudu but when we were within touching distance, we discovered that there were many many more. There was a rhino outline, people holding bow and arrows, giraffes, and impala and if you look carefully at the picture, you can see them. We were completely mesmerized by the presence of something so historic, and cultural and just couldn’t believe how close we were. Had we not gone in search of the Chief of Bobonong, we would have never seen these paintings in all their immenseness. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7zoxbSGX1PPflBcXxo2y0L3iJ4CN70A-MCazVD-5uReIW_aokef1mmNssB3MSh55Ed_eB-qTh4TC4JjLc_A9z8r9GhdxD3y-5bES_4P4dIQ4Eqs_FkNKpm75FZfKBrWuGxexC6IiHZpB/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621040154618749826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7zoxbSGX1PPflBcXxo2y0L3iJ4CN70A-MCazVD-5uReIW_aokef1mmNssB3MSh55Ed_eB-qTh4TC4JjLc_A9z8r9GhdxD3y-5bES_4P4dIQ4Eqs_FkNKpm75FZfKBrWuGxexC6IiHZpB/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" style="height: 267px; width: 400px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kudu is clear, but can you see the rhino and the people?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadIPPaxwhza6y1zdiib9OJwRLt0iz22tY1sKtGrD8hFxrHv4kZM2X_Oedl8A5V4vnk4G8wQArPihHIVIu2VNOznnacwEe3B_Re9nwsOvxLkF87R5w423g-sQp2T-KWXsZ0gU2hkeN6JSF/s1600/DSCF0865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadIPPaxwhza6y1zdiib9OJwRLt0iz22tY1sKtGrD8hFxrHv4kZM2X_Oedl8A5V4vnk4G8wQArPihHIVIu2VNOznnacwEe3B_Re9nwsOvxLkF87R5w423g-sQp2T-KWXsZ0gU2hkeN6JSF/s400/DSCF0865.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iz, Thomas, and I at the Lepokole Hills</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Having accomplished our mission of getting to Lepokole Hills, our immediate target became to get back to Francistown before dinner and so we could get a good rest before another week of work. We jumped in the back of our truck at 2:15 PM and left Lepokole Hills with no idea when the last bus from Bobonong to Selebi Phikwe was. Simone told us that the last bus from Phikwe to Francistown was at 5:00PM and so really needed to bust it to get to Phikwe in 3 hours. The thing with buses here is that they usually leave in the mornings and never in the late evenings probably due to the lack of lighting on highways and so it as was imperative that we got to Phikwe or we would have been spending another night not in Francistown. Simone realized the urgency and drove 90 kmph on a rocky dirt road. That is the most scared I have been on this trip thus far. One jutting rock could have sent the hitchhikers, Iz, and I flying out of the truck. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">As we pulled into the bus rank at 3:19, my initial thought was that we had missed the 3:00PM bus and that meant we would miss our 5PM bus to Francistown. It was just our luck that the next bus to Phikwe was at 3:30 and so we got on the bus and found the last three seats available in back row wedged between an old lady and 4 children and 2 ladies occupying two seats. We reached Bobonong at 4:45 and, much to our dismay, discovered that there was no bus to Francistown. There was a bus to Gabarone at 5 and so we got on that with the plan to get off at Serule and try and hitchhike to Francistown. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">By the time we reached Serule, the sun had already set and tension was rising because we actually had no way of getting home. There was also a large crowd of hitchikers waving people down and so we had to wait for another 30 mins before the crowd thinned. Then, from the South came a bus headed for Francistown originating in Gabarone. It was the last bus of the day and we HADDD to get on the bus. We waved it down and quickly got to the front of the line that was forming. Thank god we did that because the bus was fully packed and only let 4 hitchhikers on. The word overloaded doesn’t even begin to explain what this bus was. It was the standard Marcopolo bus that would hold 44 passengers in Canada. This one had 65 seats and ALSO had 20 people standing the aisle. In total, a bus that would hold 44 was holding 85 and it wasss smelly. We met some interesting people in the form of Ishmael, a medical student studying in Cape Town, and an old man travelling to Zimbabwe. The great thing about Botswana is that elders get the utmost respect. Our very rowdy conductor came to collect receipts to give change and immediately became decent and spoke in a respectful manner to this old man sitting next to me. He was a boss. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">We reached Francistown with sore legs and parted ways, excited to tell our hosts of our incredible weekend adventure. And so the story of our weekend comes to an end. We didn’t end up meeting the Chief of Bobonong, but the search for his permission is what essentially got us to Lepokole. We persevered and, like true travelers, we went forth with no definitive path to follow. And that’s what wandering is all about. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span></div></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-57973043526829254712011-06-21T23:34:00.000-07:002011-06-22T02:59:14.620-07:00Sunset over Namibia<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cW-C6sLVKooS22xjMgsuvDMmaztGUXMrixSMTk4GJ3oRLCbPzT8XvwLx5a4RMRoGsHu5zI7yZusYtcqc27wVgHYziUutr-D5Z-w-0ghltal0E2fDHye26ri7KEcwmD9KicJJt5e2qWEN/s1600/DSC_0597.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cW-C6sLVKooS22xjMgsuvDMmaztGUXMrixSMTk4GJ3oRLCbPzT8XvwLx5a4RMRoGsHu5zI7yZusYtcqc27wVgHYziUutr-D5Z-w-0ghltal0E2fDHye26ri7KEcwmD9KicJJt5e2qWEN/s400/DSC_0597.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620941471492168530" border="0" /></a></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-61853512485696882242011-06-21T06:53:00.001-07:002011-06-21T07:45:49.300-07:00Map of Eastern Botswana<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1TuVfHHcHbh51AmJPSFpp6-srAcgxwqh5gGVwYy0oYqyg2-UkwEoGBdRG2AXEnmlhEiEJOhiNWNyXotN6z0ZUQndbx7ylXN9hKgVrLRfe_s581x7EfMhzx7_S-J99ztVBbT3X-wyuUlW/s1600/Botswana2a.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 342px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1TuVfHHcHbh51AmJPSFpp6-srAcgxwqh5gGVwYy0oYqyg2-UkwEoGBdRG2AXEnmlhEiEJOhiNWNyXotN6z0ZUQndbx7ylXN9hKgVrLRfe_s581x7EfMhzx7_S-J99ztVBbT3X-wyuUlW/s400/Botswana2a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620671067949133858" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">citation: africandestiny.com</div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-58014317431602038352011-06-21T06:17:00.000-07:002011-06-21T06:26:30.938-07:00My Pregnancy<style>@font-face { font-family: "Wingdings"; }@font-face { font-family: "MS 明朝"; }@font-face { font-family: "Cambria Math"; }@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Cambria; }.MsoChpDefault { font-family: Cambria; }div.WordSection1 { page: WordSection1; }</style> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Friday night (June 17<sup>th</sup>): Isabelle and I are neighbors in an area called Monarch BZ and so we usually take a taxi together from work. I hadn’t met her hosts/neighbors yet and so after work, I went over to their house for introductions. Isabelle’s host Mrs. Otusitse is quite the women. She studied psychology (BA and MA) in Missouri and is a lecturer at the same institute as my host Mrs. Tshabo. She also has very good command over anyone that enters her home. When introductions were good and dusted, she commanded Isabelle to fetch me an orange and when I hesitated to take it, I got a cultural lesson. Iz, Tom and I had gone for milkshakes earlier in the evening and so I was already quite satisfied and in no mood to eat. Yet after the orange, traditional nuts along with the Morojwa fruit (hard shell, gooey insides) were served. Then out of nowhere came the main course dinner meal. Again I hesitated and again I got a cultural lesson. The meal consisted of cabbage coleslaw, 2 chicken pieces and 2 dumplings (Batswana style) the size of my fist. I finished the entire meal (surprisingly), said goodbyes, walked home and into the kitchen for a drink of water only to find Mrs. Tshabo cooking MORE DINNER. The thing with Mrs. Tshabo is that she is so soft spoken and nice that there is no way I could have just rejected her offer of dinner. </span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ma Tshabo: “Oh Hi Fai, I cooked you dinner </span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >:)</span><span style="font-size:85%;">” (Fai is my nickname)</span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me: “Hiiii…..I just ate at Ma Otusitse’s house….Buttt don’t worry, I didn’t eat too much….Lets eat.” </span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">That was the biggest mistake I have made on this trip. The food was served with a liberal hand and I got the biggest portion…..It was “paleje” which is mealy meal, “morokh” which is like spinach but not, and moar chicken. The thing with paleje is that its literally a compressed sponge when you eat it and then it expands. I got about half way through when my body decided that it wasn’t going to let my brain do this for the sake of being nice to my host. I started feeling so nauseous that I had to get up and go sit in my room while everyone watched tv. The only problem was that my stomach was so bloated that I couldn’t sit down (not exaggerating). My situation was so bad that I could see a visual bulge in my stomach and had to switch into clothing that would let my stomach expand freely. After about 30 minutes of seriously labored breathing while standing up, I decided it was time to sleep. You know when you have a really big meal and get really sleepy and lethargic afterwards? Well I basically got knocked out cold. Though I had to sleep on my back because sleeping on my side was too uncomfortable. And that’s the closest Ill ever get to being pregnant. </span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />The only silver lining to this dark and very dense cloud of a night was that my body had enough food and nutrition for the journey to see the Chief of Bobonong…</span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Stay tuned</span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Faisal</span></p>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-43559630017310744872011-06-21T00:59:00.000-07:002011-06-21T07:48:19.345-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXIONHF8mBiy6Q8GF2Hq4KAVekotrffCa8B16Wd4aXlgaF9mJfSudInijxTWD3zF8VQTTpRhKtZ7rXYJ8S230eQGFRU3g5sbgqlPfe7w-GwzJ3vAm99B6iwsVmJkQeZ90L_3gDassSlbrH/s1600/DSC_0415.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXIONHF8mBiy6Q8GF2Hq4KAVekotrffCa8B16Wd4aXlgaF9mJfSudInijxTWD3zF8VQTTpRhKtZ7rXYJ8S230eQGFRU3g5sbgqlPfe7w-GwzJ3vAm99B6iwsVmJkQeZ90L_3gDassSlbrH/s320/DSC_0415.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620592939794610130" border="0" /></a><br />A giraffe standing in Botswana looking at Namibia<br /></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334249549732143319.post-36950294690436295622011-06-20T23:49:00.000-07:002011-06-27T06:23:29.385-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Whaattssap! I’ve been in Botswana for 11 days now and just wanted to share my experiences in the rawest form where spelling and grammar are non-issues. This is a “thought to words” type blog and so my apologies if my writing isn’t lyrical and eloquent (Head over to the QPID Botswana blog for that. Lots of food for thought there).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The epic journey to Botswana was as smooth as it could possibly be. I left Kingston on June 7th at about 12:30 PM, reached Francistown Botswana at around 3:30PM on Thursday June 9th and everything went exactly as planned. There was no lost luggage, no flight delays, and no real turbulence. The Etihad flight from Abu Dhabi to Johannesburg was probably the emptiest long haul flight I have ever been on and so I ended up having the entire middle row to myself. Best sleep on a plane EVER. The overall journey would have been pretty boring if it weren’t for the excitement that accompanies travelling to new places.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Francistown Airport reminded me a lot of Kilimanjaro Airport in Tanzania though this one was even smaller; the immigration office and baggage claim were merged into a bedroom size area. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">For the first few days in Francistown aka “the Ghetto”, a friend of a friend took it upon himself to show us around the city and teach us survival techniques and without him, we would have seriously flopped. We spent one full day in Francistown (June 10th) and then the QPID team left for Kasane to get Chloe and Lyndsay settled in. The bus trip there on the CHOBE EXPRESS was possibly one of the most uncomfortable because the van that would hold 12 mayybee 15 people in Canada was holding 27+conductor who was one fattass rude guy. Along the way, we ended up seeing our first elephants chillin in some bush along the highway as well as a group of female ostriches, a young giraffe, and kudu.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">In Kasane, we were greeted by Ludo aka Mama who is the elder sister of our friend Kenosi. Just for a little background, Kenosi is a Batswana friend of ours from Queen’s who helped us with language and cultural training and travelled with us to Francistown before heading to his own town. Mama turned out to be one hell of a character. She’s 25, works as an automechanic, and acts like a total child (in the best of ways). But she was incredibly generous to allow us to stay at her home which was a tale in itself consisting of freezing cold showers, massive spiders, and leopard attack scares. Mama’s place was actually in Kazungula which is roughly 6km from Kasane and while most people would just think of jogging that distance every morning, the threat of animal attacks from leopards, elephants, cape buffalo, and hippos was so great that hitchhiking became our preferred mode of transport. That may seem sketchy but that is part of the norm here and it is the recommended way of getting around.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pile of hippos in Chobe National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Kasane is a very touristy town and so food was a lot more expensive but the place itself is just incredible. Its located on the banks of the Chobe River which we were told is one of the world’s only rivers that flows in 2 directions (at different times of the year). The area itself is teeming with wildlife because of its vicinity to the Chobe National Park and so we regularly saw elephants, pumbas, cape buffalo, and chacma baboons on the outskirts of the town.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male Chacma baboon contemplating</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A herd of elephants stopped to eat mineral rich dirt</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dumbo</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">We had a bit of downtime during our trip to Kasane and so on one day, we went for a boat cruise along the Chobe River and saw elephants swimming across the river into Namibian territory. A site to behold. The next day we went for a game drive and saw the most spectacular sunset I have EVER seen as well as 2 female lionesses (a rarity for a 3 hour game drive in the early evening) as well as the “usual” fauna. The day after, our game drive guide contacted us to let us know that he had witnessed 15 lions feast on an elephant. Buzz kill.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first lion on the prowl</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpz3DqyVAhtwFQWNyAv4PZqPek7hZc1D4iHUARx5kPCw_SwgTqCFD8R6ci9fuZeQV_TvA4NmZ5ubHrHzw6PlNTuwznQkV1gjqCrBlFlID3JWhggZMiRkXJoyYQPSSicranB_dJHZ2vsiYN/s1600/DSC_0410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpz3DqyVAhtwFQWNyAv4PZqPek7hZc1D4iHUARx5kPCw_SwgTqCFD8R6ci9fuZeQV_TvA4NmZ5ubHrHzw6PlNTuwznQkV1gjqCrBlFlID3JWhggZMiRkXJoyYQPSSicranB_dJHZ2vsiYN/s400/DSC_0410.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young giraffe crossing the Chobe River</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gNFVkW03bwILs-EP8yb9f8KAdBPjJgd74k7V7baqYtO7ama8nkdNBk0zBsazWpGoNai-7_xJ9LXcYGyyG0a6czXpV3xN3Lp4666WZqk-D-n5XkerWq8gkhbL7LzvjWPTQHBKN-7IgxRF/s1600/DSC_0540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gNFVkW03bwILs-EP8yb9f8KAdBPjJgd74k7V7baqYtO7ama8nkdNBk0zBsazWpGoNai-7_xJ9LXcYGyyG0a6czXpV3xN3Lp4666WZqk-D-n5XkerWq8gkhbL7LzvjWPTQHBKN-7IgxRF/s400/DSC_0540.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male Kudu silhouette</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">We left Kasane on Tuesday morning at 6AM and even that was adventurous. The day earlier, Mama had told us about a leopard attack and so we were really sketched on the Tuesday morning when we had to walk out to the main road in the dark lugging all our bags. As we were standing on the main road desperately waiting for any car to roll by, we heard a growling type noise. Thomas and I maintain that it was some sort or wild animal whereas Iz thinks it was a truck idling. It was an animal. Trust me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Back in Francistown, we all met with our host families and parted ways. My hosts the Tshabos are quite the accomplished couple and I really look forward to the next few months. Mr Tshabo is an elderly man who, before retiring, was involved in the wildlife and game department of the government and even held the post of coordinator of Chobe National Park at one point. He currently lives by the Okavango Delta and is a cattle farmer at the tender age of 66. Mrs. Tshabo is a lecturer of English and in stark comparison to Mr. Tshabo, she is very soft spoken and a devout Christian. By devout I mean realllyyy devout. Like church 4 times a week. Im sure I will talk more of these guys as the days go by.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Now a little about the culture. For one, there is no rush to do anything. Things will get done when they get done. It’s a major change from North American living where when someone tells you to meet them at 9AM, its imperative that you meet them at 9AM or else you’re a slacker, have commitment issues or are just plain useless. Here, that pressure of having to fit perfectly into other people’s time tables is absent and so life is just 10 times easier. This is a culture that teaches you that patience is everything. People even walk slower when going from A to B. Another great thing about this chilled way of living is that as a foreigner, people don’t give a damn that you’re here. In Cambodia, Thailand, or anywhere else that I have ever been, street vendors yell from every angle to get your attention but here you can walk through a market and go completely unnoticed. The Batswana culture is also very communal as compared to North America where people are generally individualistic. There is an immense amount of trust between strangers and thus when someone helps you out, you never get the feeling that there are ulterior motives involved.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Now a little about the work. Thomas, Iz, and I are interning at a local NGO by the name of True Men Center and basically its goal is to increase the involvement of men in the fight against HIV/AIDS and ultimately stop the spread of the virus. Basically there are three main projects being run right now and they target commercial sex workers and the truck drivers they cater to, the issue of multiple concurrent partners (MCP), and prevention of mother to child transmission (PMTCT). We’re based in the headquarters but as we learned today, there is a large network of peer educators, about 50 in total, that are responsible for all the “field work”, who only come to the office once a week and for the rest of the time are out engaging the community. Our first main project as interns (6 of us) is to hold a workshop for new hires to the post of peer educators and give them all the information necessary to conduct their jobs. I will personally be responsible for a presentation on mental preparation as well as putting the overall presentation together. Right now we’re just trying to figure out the structure of the organization but soon enough we’ll be doing some real work and heading out with peer educators.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This message has gotten wayyyy too long but I just wanted to include as much as I could in the first post. I promise to keep them short from now on and post frequently. Pleaasseee don’t hesitate to comment on anything.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home.”</span> -<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> James Michener</span><br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br />
Sala Sentle</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Faisal</span></div>Faisalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494829650348022051noreply@blogger.com2