Harnas magic

At least one friend in my exercise class at home thinks I stay in a tent while I'm in Africa. I hate to dispel that romantic notion, but I actually have a lovely one-room bungalow--called Mowgli.--that has electricity, an indoor bathroom, and lovely African decor. I'll admit it even has an a/c unit--although I won't use it unless it goes over 100 degrees some afternoon. Volunteers definitely rough it, but these days I'm a pampered guest.

My first full day was beautiful. I spent the morning walking with Pickles and visiting old friends, including 3 cheetahs who let me scratch and pet them while they kept up their fabulous purring. Then I met some of the new arrivals at Harnas, but I'll tell you about them at a later date.

After lunch I was heading home from the office to rest duyring the hottest part of the day and suddenly over the bridge came 3 baby baboons. They had been with Marieta on the far side of the bridge where she was overseeing some work. I flopped down on the lawn in the shade of a big tree and they joined me and Pickles, where they used my body as a jungle gym for the next couple of hours. Two other dogs joined us--Brollocks (a black lab--in the picture) and Lexi (a great dane) and the baboons climbed all over them as well. Lexi even wrestled with the male baboon, Ronnie. (Yes a great dane with a baboon. It's Harnas, after all.)

One of Marieta's worker women brought by 3 bottles of formula so I got to feed them, and then the smallest, a female named Rosy, fell asleep on my chest while Ronnie and Rica climbed in the tree.

As I leaned back on my elbows, surrounded by dogs and baboons, I looked across the lawn and saw about a dozen baby ostriches--about the size of turkeys--run awkwardly towards us, only to be driven wildly off course by a baby horse frolicking in the grass.

It was one of those magical Harnas moments when I shake my head and smile, knowing there's nowhere else on earth this could happen--and nowhere else on earth I'd rather be.



harnas again

No picture today, I'm afraid. The wireless is down at Harnas for several days and so the women in the office have been kind enough to let me use the wired computers. But I can't input pictures from my camera to this computer. Ah, Africa.

I arrived last night (Friday) and promptly realized that I'd left my adapter back in Windhoek at Casa Blanca. Fortunately, I found a volunteer leaving today who sold me hers. So I have power but no internet for awhile. So it goes.

The first creature I had to find--even before any person--was Pickles, my African dog. It didn't take long. I spotted her little white body across the lapa lawn and called to her. There was a pause during which she tried to place my voice, and then the streak of white. She practically knocked me over, despite being all of about 20 pounds.

One problem, though: I had been warned that Pickles had been "adopted" from Marieta by a mechanic here named Conrad, and he might not be too happy with my kidnapping Pickles from him for 3 weeks. I braced myself. When he finally showed up after work to the dinner area, Pickles went wild to see him, and it became clear to me that he adored her and vice versa. My heart melted and we worked out a deal: I would get custody of her during the day when he worked, and he would take her home to sleep each night. It was lonely in bed last night, but we did the right thing, as any parents would: think of the child first.

Last night was heavenly. I spent the evening with about 8 staff members from Harnas--many of whom have been friends of mine for several years, including Marieta (newly nicknamed Mamba). We spent hours eating, drinking, and laughing while I got filled in on Harnas gossip and wild stories. Every once in a while a silence would fall as we stopped to listen to the lions roaring back and forth to each other. It doesn't matter how often you hear it, the rumbling roars of the kings of Harnas fill you with awe and wonder.

I put my head back and closed my eyes and felt so happy to be home in Africa again.

Windhoek

There's something so wonderful and encouraging about flying to the other side of the world, making your way through airports, customs, and immigration, and then walking out into a busy airport and finding a man standing there with your name--YOUR NAME--written on a card. I felt validated. They know me here, I felt. I'm at home (at least one of my homes).

And that's what happened today about 2:30 p.m. Namibian time, after flying from Raleigh (where I went through security) to New York (where I went through security) to Johannesburg (where I went through security TWICE--long story) to Windhoek (pronounced vind-hook). It all took about 24 hours, during which I slept only about 4 hours. But it was worth it to walk out of the airport and shed the last layer of many, leaving me in a tank top but still sweating. Ah, summer!

Things got a little interesting then, though. My transport took me to a guesthouse called Casa Blanca, where they claimed never to have heard of me. A very long story that includes a previous guesthouse  being bought, moved, sold again, and disappeared. It all turned out okay, though, because they found a room for me--a much nicer room than I'm used to for the same price as the old room. Here's the courtyard by my room. I took a swim and then a shower--24 hours of grime gone.

Tonight I dined with the owner, a woman of German descent who came here seeking adventure in 1965, fell in love with Namibia, and stayed, married twice, and had 4 children. I greedily downed my meal while she told me fascinating stories of her life during the past 47 years in an amazingly changing Namibia. Now I feel quite dizzy and tired, the last day and a half catching up to me. Tomorrow (I hope) another transport will pick me up at 9:00 to take me out to Harnas, another 3-4 hours to the Kalahari Desert. I'm ready. Being here again has touched that part deep inside me that says "you're home."

Back to Harnas

Hey Everyone, (If anyone is out there . . . )

I'm heading back to Harnas next Wednesday, arriving in Windhoek Thursday and the sanctuary Friday. I plan on writing the blog when I'm there--at least until the end of the Mayan calendar, and after that if we're all still around. (I hope you're waiting to buy Christmas presents until after the 21st. No need to spend all that time if the end of the world is here. :)

So look for blogs starting mid-to-late week, and I'll see you next on the other side of the world!

time to go again

I’m always a little sad during my last few days of a Harnas trip. Tuesday night at dinner, I suddenly started crying over my food. No explanation to Johannes, my server, needed. He just gave me a hug and said he understood. He’s seen it a hundred times before with guests and volunteers alike. He just said, “I will look forward to the day when you return to Harnas.” That made me cry more.

I try to make the most of my last days. On Tuesday afternoon I took a walk with several volunteers that I especially like and three baboons that I’m fairly fond of. We walked through the bush while the baboons ate berries, explored, and took a ride on our heads—as in this picture. Sometimes they were sweet, giving kisses, and a couple of times they took a ride on their mood swings and tried to bite us. Generally, we forgive them for the latter. They’re baboons, after all, and live a manic life.

Today, walking across the lapa lawn, I saw a strange sight: a baby crocodile—about two feet from head to toe—was trying to get INTO the adult croc enclosure and had gotten his head, front legs and part of his belly through the chain link fence and then gotten stuck. The big croc—nine feet in length and scary--had his long mouth around the head of the baby croc, pulling him through. He could have beheaded the baby with ease, but seemed to be trying to HELP the youngster. Apparently the little one had gotten out of the baby pen and decided to join the two adults. Odd situation. What was actually happening here?

Of course I called for help. Gabriel, one of the bartenders, came running and we tried to decide what to do. I grabbed the tail of the baby and pulled him back—out of the mouth of the adult—and then Gabriel picked him up by the tail (brave man—flashing teeth and anger emanating from the little one) and carried him back to the baby pond and deposited him there with his siblings. Then we looked at each other and laughed. You just never know at Harnas what will happen. Rescue a baby croc? Just part of the morning routine.

This afternoon I visited my new love, Atheno, and asked a volunteer to take some pictures of the two of us cuddling. This picture is my favorite. I’m going to miss this boy. Just how do you tell an animal that you have to leave—to go back to work to make money so you can visit again? I’m sure I don’t know.

My heart breaks every time I leave Harnas. Tomorrow morning I begin the return. Thanks for taking this journey with me again. I appreciate all my readers and especially the ones who leave comments. Until the next time—B

this and that

It’s been a slow couple of days here—just enjoying the peace and quiet of the new year and spending time with my favorite babies.

I finally went back out to find Pride again—hoping she wouldn’t have just made a kill, so I could cuddle with her. Sure enough, we found her lounging under a camelthorne tree. As soon as we came into her sight, she started purring. She was affectionate and cuddly—amazing that one minute she’s a natural born killer and the next she’s licking the faces of her human companions and purring up a storm. She truly a wonderful cat who has proved to all that wild animals brought up by humans CAN be returned to the wild.

Yesterday, I took two new volunteers out in the late afternoon (it was soooo hot—it’s been over 100 degrees several days in a row) with the two 3-legged caracals for a walk in the wild. You’d think they couldn’t go very fast with only 3 legs, but they can really move when they want to. The heat kept them down a bit, though, and they spent most of their time moving from one shady tree to the next.

Here’s a great shot of one of the baby leopards resting, legs slung over the wooden log, hanging. This is how they sleep in the trees. Their balance is astounding. They look so carefree, but about two seconds after I took this, Gabana was up and flying through the air to land gracefully on his sister, Dolce. They move so fast and soundlessly. I can see, even in these babies, why they’re the stealthiest hunters in the wild. Nobody would see or hear a leopard coming.

Only a couple of days left. It’s been a great trip.

2012

I hope everyone had a good New Year’s Eve. It was wonderful here.

Marieta had the Bushman set up long tables out on the grass the lapa area and the cheetah enclosures (I'm sure the cats were a bit confused all night). All afternoon, they roasted three sheep and twelve chickens on spits over fires and the kitchen people prepared a feast of side dishes. Spotlights and candles were set up all over, and someone worked as a disc jockey near what used to be the outdoor dining area but what became for one evening our dance floor.

Around seven guests and volunteers began arriving. The volunteers had decided the theme was a masquerade ball, and they had all made masks decorated with whatever they could find. Feathers from the aviary were popular—as was some glitter from the children’s school. This picture shows a group of them showing off their masks.

Before dinner the Bushman children did a series of African dances to entertain us. No music--just handclapping in various rhythms--like their own sets of drums. They were so great—had on traditional costumes and really stomped and clapped their way into my heart.

Lots of eating, drinking, and laughing all evening, and then there was dancing under the stars for hours. Finally, at what we agreed was midnight (there was no Dick Clark and a lighted ball in Times Square), we all stood in a circle and counted down from ten. It was a memorable way to bring in 2012—a New Year’s that will stand out in all our memories as beautiful and fun and a bit exotic.

Today everyone looks a little worse for the wear, but we all agreed it might be our favorite New Year’s celebration ever. It’s hard to top dancing under the African stars while the lions roar in the distance.