I knew I was in for the time of my life when our tour group was told that in order to get to the "boat station" to leave for the Okavanga Delta, we were going to have to undertake an hour long, open-air, overland vehicle drive through the desert. And let me tell you--they made the drive sound appealing. In actuality, while I was sitting on top of all of my worldly possessions, trying not to fly off of the truck, or inhale sand to the point of asphyxiation, I realized that I was actually better off with the Toddler in the Cockpit. Either way, I chalked the truck ride up to just another adventure on my travels throughout Africa.
In order to travel throughout the Delta, you ride in hollowed out, wooden canoes called mekoros. After our hour-long roller-coaster ride throughout the desert, the small dirt road we were driving on opened up, and all of a sudden I was at a bustling hub. I had arrived at the mekoro station! This "station" can only be likened to Grand Central. Overland trucks were parked askew, what seemed like masses of people were milling about, different languages were flying around, domesticated and wild animals were searching for new friends...it was just an utterly chaotic, swarm of activity. And I loved it. While our mekoros were being loaded up, all of us took the opportunity to find a quiet bathroom, and slather ourselves with sunscreen and insect repellent (Look Mom! No sunburn or Malaria!). It didn't take long for our mekoros to be ready to go, and I was off on a two hour ride up the Okavanga to our campsite!
I was a sly little weasel and managed to grab shot-gun in the mekoro I shared with my friend, Haley. Much to my disappointment, karma came back at me when I realized that being in the front meant many encounters with various arachnids and amphibians. These little buddies got knocked off of the reeds and tall grasses they inhabited when we traveled through dense areas. Although I got used to it, the experience left me riddled with many a spider bite which left my legs looking disease ridden for a week post-vacation.
It also did not take me long to establish a love-hate relationship with the pure power of the heat in the Delta. Never, ever, have I been so hot in my life. (This may have had to do with the "sun sensitivity" side effect of my malaria medication, but I'm not sure. It was pretty hot.) Luckily, after we set up camp on a small island within the Delta, relief came in the form of our local "swimming hole." An excited frenzy stirred throughout our camp when our trusted leader and guide, Ruth, came back from checking out the swimming hole, soaking wet. She had given the swimming hole her safety seal of approval, and so off we went. The prospect of cooling water never seemed so fantastic. We took a short mekoro ride to the coveted location, only to realize that our "swimming hole" was merely a break in the reeds and grass. It was quite comical watching everyone slide into the water, without trying to tip over the mekoros, and it was even more entertaining to watch everyone freak out by how slimy the undergrowth of the Delta was. Every time I moved I thought I was getting attacked by hippos or other underwater creatures because the lily pads and other various grasses seemed to attack my legs. (Tangent: The experience was very reminiscent of the 4th Harry Potter book when Harry has to rescue Ginny from the underwater merepeople, and he gets attacked by all of the slimy little evil tad poles) All in all, the experience was more frightening than expected (which seemed to be a common theme throughout the entire duration of my spring break trip) but awesome none the less.
My first night in the Delta was defined by the absolute wonder of the best star gazing I think I will ever see. Before the Delta, I never understood what was meant by the "Milky Way." I mean, I understood the concept, and I could picture in my mind what the Milky Way would look like in the sky, but I had never seen it before. Well, that changed my first night in the Delta. I was overcome with child-like wonder when I looked up to the sky, rather naively, pointed at the Milky Way, and said aloud: "Wow! Look at that milkly band of stars! What is that?!" (I then felt rather stupid and was relieved that no one heard me.) You could see so many other things in the night sky that were just amazing--planets, nearly all of the various constellations...The night quickly became my favorite part of the few days I spent in the Delta. It's cloaking of the heat and unparalleled marvel of the sky was so wondrous. (Side note: I know the pictures don't correspond with my last two little stories, but they were too cool not to post.)
The majority of our time in the Delta was taken up by various mekoro rides to neighboring islands, as well as lots of nature walks. This is what a typical day consisted of:
I was so excited to see a hippo foot print! My other favorite nature encounter was the discovery of "monkey balls", which are large tree nuts that elephants swallow. Because the digestive system of elephants is rather weak, they poop out these nuts whole!! The cool thing about monkey balls getting pooped out by elephants, is that after they have been digested, the outer skin of the nut becomes weak. This allows one to carve neat patterns and designs into the monkey balls. So, at camp that night, my fellow trip mates got to try to carve our very only monkey balls that had gotten pooped out by real live elephants. I really don't think anything can beat that.
All of these experiences would not have been possible without one very important person. And that person is my little man, Francis. Or, as I lovingly called him: Franstar. Franstar embodied his nickname...he was a star. A true gem. As the Lieutenant Commander of the mekoro fleet, Francis out shinned his counterparts in his ability to "pull" our mekoro the fastest. He also had an unparalleled sense of direction, often taking Haley and I along the "back" routes that no one else seemed to travel along or through. Above all else, Franstar was a true legend because of his willingness to show us traditional African dances. Allegedly, these dances gave thanks to frogs. This "dance" consisted of us jumping around on the ground, pretending as if we were frogs. Franstar may have made up this "traditional" African dance in order to make fun of ignorant Americans, but if so, he never let on. So to Franstar: Cheers. You rocked.
