| 10:15ish PM, July 28, 2004 - Chobe River, Chobe National Park, Botswana It was not so long ago that I sat in my comfortable flat in San Francisco, anticipating my trip here to Botswana. Wondering what it would be like to safari through the wilderness of southern Africa, I remember pondering whether I would be able to see an elephant in the wild. And then I came here and I now know that I am in the Land of the Elephant I’ve listened transfixed in my cot as they trumpet and wail in the night. I’ve watched as they lumber single file out of the hills to drink and wash in the river; looked sorrowfully at a baby calf, lying still on the ground with no apparent wounds, very recently and mysteriously deceased – and thought of the wailing in the night; the sound of a mother mourning her young. I’ve witnessed the joy of two adolescents happily and playfully crossing the Chobe River – mischievously splashing much like any adolescent would; stood quietly watching the slow familial procession through the bush, a great matriarch lifting her massive trunk to drink from the river; the reflection of her majestic frame rolling gently in the placid Chobe. I will never look upon an elephant the same way. To experience a habitat that supports a large elephant population, one of the largest wild populations in the world, is a world away from seeing an elephant in the zoo or in the circus. They may tolerate us, but our principal input to this population is the restraint employed in not decimating it. Once again the final arbiter seems to be economic incentive. Eventually it all may burn up in an overheated, carbon-chocked haze, but for now, it pays to let people come and see the Land of the Elephant. All too soon, perhaps, to be the way it was. That the Land of the Elephant is guarded by regular patrols of well-armed soldiers in armored vehicles is the melancholy aspect of this landscape that allows such delight in being here. The physical manifestation of employing the restraint not to decimate this habitat, but there I go again. Such thoughts swirl about as the wind whips the tent in this moonlit night. We are now encamped along the Chobe River, our last camp of the safari. We’ve had some pretty strong winds on and off since Savute. I have recently learned that in August the Big Winds come to southern Africa. This evening, as July wanes, a hint of those Big Winds are whistling through the trees. This is our last night in the bush, tomorrow we will be ensconced at the old Vic Falls Hotel in Zimbabwe. Our first dinner at Riley’s in Maun seems like ages ago. Jayne and I went walking in the late afternoon and got caught in the dark on the way back, strangers in a strange land; wondering if I’d see an elephant. Tom Schueneman a.k.a The Traveler is a freelance writer, photographer, and web publisher based in San Francisco, California.
Back to TheTraveler. |
