Africa Sends Its Love

25.5 hours in planes, 4 major cities and stepping in a box of disinfecting solution so you don't carry foot and mouth disease into the wilds, and we are in Botswana, ready to hop an 8 seater to Camp Xakanaxa. We don't know what to expect. We were just told to step into a box and by doing that, we had eradicated every bit of a disease I'm not even sure we had. And since I wanted the co-pilot seat, I had special instructions: If something happens to the pilot, push him out so that Ian can fly the plane.

I wonder if I shouldn't just let Ian ride shotgun now.

Ian is our photographer guide - or at least that is what we thought as we got onto the plane. We didn't know that in 5 days, we were going to miss him like we missed our own families. We didn't know what fun we were in for as he helped us take better pictures AND became part of one of the best guide duos I've ever seen.

But then again, every other guide I'd seen was showing me where war had taken place. Civil War, The Battle of I812, The French and Indian War, etc. American History is a bloody, fascinating thing.

When we land at the camp, we were greeted by our guide, Water, as baboons and impala watched us from the edge of the airstrip. He asked if we wanted to go straight to camp or if we wanted to drive around. Being the adventurous lot, we decided a drive sounded nice. So at 5:20pm on a Saturday evening - although it did feel more like a Tuesday - we set out on our first ever safari.

We were realistic. We were not in a zoo. Animals were not guaranteed. If we just saw nature, we would be happy. We were in fucking Africa for God's sake! There is no other way to say that, no other way to feel than that. We were in fucking Africa. The wind was crisp, it was still winter, and the air around us sang - starlings crying out, franklins and their chicks peeping, the low, hollow sound of the calling doves. And then we came upon the impala. Though they are a common sight, to us, that day, they were magnificent. We had questions: horns or antlers, why so many males, how do herds operate, what kind of bird is that, what, how, why? Every question was answered.

Then we are sitting, staring at a herd of elephants. It is a picture waiting to happen, baby elephants, the reflection in such clear water, the herd circling to protect the young from the approaching vehicle they drink, they watch, their ears flapping. They decide we are mostly harmless and then they move on.

I was not going to cry, but it was beautiful.

For me, that is it. What more can we see today, I think. And we saw more. Waterbuck, red lechwe, more birds, more impala and then, in a little hole away from it all, a leopard.

I am by no means a vegetarian, but I can be a bit of a softie (when I'm not being a bit of a bitch) and I mourn for dead things. Not trees. I like dead trees. But anything else, it is almost automatic. But one of the most beautiful sights was nature being nature, a leopard gnawing at the bones of an impala, a fresh kill, looking for the marrow. I've made stock, little leopard. I understand.

And we sit there for what feels like hours, watching him as he watched us. And a giraffe walked by, heedless of the leopard, feeding on the leaves overhead. Which picture should we take now?

I was in fucking Africa. She sends her love.