The final countdown

That’s it. Now I’ve got exactly a week left in South Africa.

It strikes me every time I think how soon I’ll be home. I feel like the days are passing faster and faster. There’s no more “oh, I’ll do that later, I still have plenty of time” – now things have to get done. Wrap up the data in Excel, make sure it’s sorted right, put all the formulas in the comments and keep the values only. Put a festive ribbon around it and tie a note “ready for R” on it. Scary stuff.

But I rather finish my data management quickly so that over a day or two I can just sit outside, enjoy the warm sun and let my thoughts wander slowly over the past 4 months, recalling all the precious moments this park had created. How I got “stuck in traffic” because an elephant decided to feed intensively on an overhanging tree at the road, or how I was hiding behind a bush while my guard whistled away a group of white rhinos that had decided to spend their morning on my experimental plot. How I spend a day on the field under a constant watch of fifteen giraffes, ten zebras and a couple of warthogs or how I needed to stop weekly at a wild dog boma to collect scat from the enclosure while the dogs were running around me.

Or just the simple yet exclusive everyday life. Sharing the garden with lovely samangos, listening to their chatter and exchanging curious looks with their youngest, and going to bed with bushbabies screaming and elephants feeding and rumbling just outside my room.

One quickly forgets how lucky he/she is. Gets used to the luxury of everyday sighting of unique African wildlife and getting the first-hand experience of work in a diverse savannah environment with highly endangered species like rhino and wild dog. Has to remind him/herself to stop and appreciate the moment of seeing a wake of vultures drinking at the river or a herd wildebeest resting in the shade of tamboti trees.

The fact that the time literally flew past me proves that even though I got a feeling of monotony and weariness from time to time, that was not the case. South Africa always provided with high class entertainment, even outside the park – for example, last time we visited Hluhluwe town for shopping, we saw a truck with massive speakers playing loud electro-with-African-beats music and a proper crowd around it, selling toast bread. Or Cape Town, where “quick and painless abortion” leaflets can be found on the walls of the old castle and where pubs share their backyards with seals and penguins.

After all that, I can almost understand why South African bureaucracy is such a struggle. Why they have to make sure foreigners will not stay too long and even deport them if necessary.

Because if they spend too much time around, they will join the diversity, get a strong taste of the local lifestyle and meet wonderful, friendly, open-minded people. And they might as well fall in love with the place that offers a never ending experience. Which will make them want to stay.

Park-hopping

It was time for a little bit of leisure again. After all, Cape Town happened almost more than a month ago and I’ve been working hard on the field and in the office ever since. I was lucky – a South African friend of mine was on her days off so we teamed up. The deal was the following: she brings a car and a tent, I bring my pleasurable presence and freshly baked muffins. Swell.

First stop was Mkhuze reserve. We knew a bunch of people there that generously invited us to stay with them. Their hospitality was comfortable – camping in their backyard, boiling tea water in their kettles, brushing teeth in their sinks. As a thank you for their kindness, we fixed dinner. Sounded promising – take away pizzas from a highway pub, named The Baobab Inn. Or at least it said “pizza” on the menu.

(a cold plastic thing, united with the cardboard box)

Though, for the people that have lived in the bush for a while, even the worst pizza feels like Christmas. I have to admit, after a warm-up on the braai which added smoky flavour to the plastic cheese and having a couple of drinks, the food was actually acceptable. Such a pleasant dinner was apparently highly inspirational. Someone suddenly decided it’s a perfect night for clubbing! Of course, everyone else thought it was a brilliant idea – didn’t matter we were sitting by the fire in the middle of a nature reserve, surrounded only by acacias and giraffes, with closest village being about an hour drive away. It had to happen. So with the windows down and music volume up, singing and dancing to the latest hits from the East Coast Radio and almost hitting a passing leopard, we drove out to the local cricket club.

Which was closed.

Shock and disappointment that followed killed our party mood and by the time we reached the park gate everyone was asleep which meant the night was officially finished.

Three hours later, sun got up and off we went to explore the reserve. We walked a 18km long transect in the wilderness, counting all the impala, gnu, rhino, lion, giraffe and other animals in our sight. It was a part of the annual game count in the park, estimating species population sizes. Observing the wildlife on foot, noticing all the details, tracks and minerals in the changing landscape of open savannah and closed bushveld allowed experiencing Mkhuze in a most unique way. Feeling it could not get better than that, my friend and I decided to move on.

Walking was a priority and we choose False Bay as our next destination, a reserve with no dangerous game and with an odd name. Especially because there is a pretty, natural, real bay stretching over the whole eastern part of the park. I loved that place, it was a mixture of Sweden and Mediterranean. Not the leopard tracks and scat, or the black mamba watching from the shore and all the red duikers hopping on the forest litter. But the vegetation, the smell and the landscape. Felt like home.

We liked it so much we had to return the following day, and we persuaded another friend to join. After 16 km of forest trail, we put down a picnic at the lake and took a series of selfies. Good times.