South Africa, Day 0 - First Impressions
The 16 hours from D.C. to Johannesburg (Jo'burg to the locals) is best left out of this story. Cramped coach-style claustrophobia; and nothing else.
Airport looks modern enough, were my first thoughts off the plane. No thatched huts, no strutting guards with automatic AKs, no 60's era hand-me-down technology. This should teach you to listen to geographically challenged friends and their myths about Africa..! No, really..! Our host and head PH Morne Coetzer met us at the gates. Our SAPS paperwork was pre-approved, which meant we didn't have to stand in line at the police station filling out our firearm permit. Yes, you beat the system, you wise and thoughtful dog, you.. Well, not really. My rifle didn't make the journey to Africa with me. AWOL. Stuck in airport hell at D.C. I decided I didn't really care. The bow made it in one piece. John's Encore came in as well. Morne assured me I could use his rifle if I needed to. I decided I really didn't care. I was here to hunt. I could hunt just as well with the bow. Heck, give me a knife, a bit of obsidian flint...
The drive to the Uhuru ranch was quite memorable. We left the airport and headed for Thabazimbi, threaded our way through a maze of highways that could be confused with any urban setting in the United States. Is this the Africa that blankets seemingly all media coverage out of this continent? European and Asian automobiles jostle for space as Morne's little red jeep threads its way out of the urban jungle. As the sun sets, the African bush peeks through the slim slice of civilization that is the road. Brief glimpses of unidentifiable antelope in the distance. Blesbok herds fading into the tall grass. Tantalizing hints of Kudu disappearing over a distant ridge.
Then the bush closes in. Dense, clumped and immense swaths of forest. Paved road thins out as we drive on. The headlights of the jeep overpower the dim light of the waning moon. Hunting's going to be good, Morne grins from the drivers seat. I nod uncomprehendingly. I've no idea what that means. What does good mean in the context of an African safari? All I can think of is this; I'm in Africa. I'm *IN* freaking Africa. No way! Yes way!...
Abruptly, we turn into a dirt country road and a short drive later, we drive into the Uhuru Hunting Lodge. I'm dirty, smell like I've been stuck on airplanes for 20 hours. No time for a tour, even less for pleasantries. I'll come get you guys tomorrow at 7:00 am. Stretch your muscles, check your bow, settle your nerves down. With that, Morne bid us good night. I walk into my private cabin and a date with a hot shower.
You're in Africa. The voice in my head is giddy with excitement. No I'm not. I'm somewhere else, suspended between continents. I'm worried about work, wife, the dog. My garden might wilt. I pause to check the stubble on my chin, and decide shaving is optional for the rest of the week. So shut up already and get some sleep. Tomorrow you hunt. Don't make a fool of yourself. Try not to be such an obvious greenhorn. Despite the tiredness seeping into my bones, I feel a shiver of primal excitement. It's time to strip the flimsy city slicker sheen off. Let the wolf out
Wonder what he's like. You know, the wolf. Does he howl? Is he blind like a newborn? Is he a terrible shot with the rifle? Will he trip over the bowstring? Fumble every stalk? Will the wolf walk away from the kill? You'll find out soon enough. The voice smirks disquietingly.
Last thoughts as I drift off to sleep. Hope the thatched roof is thick enough to repel the curious leopard...
My cabin at the Uhuru Hunting Lodge; and yes, the two feet of thatch are quite cat-proof.
Airport looks modern enough, were my first thoughts off the plane. No thatched huts, no strutting guards with automatic AKs, no 60's era hand-me-down technology. This should teach you to listen to geographically challenged friends and their myths about Africa..! No, really..! Our host and head PH Morne Coetzer met us at the gates. Our SAPS paperwork was pre-approved, which meant we didn't have to stand in line at the police station filling out our firearm permit. Yes, you beat the system, you wise and thoughtful dog, you.. Well, not really. My rifle didn't make the journey to Africa with me. AWOL. Stuck in airport hell at D.C. I decided I didn't really care. The bow made it in one piece. John's Encore came in as well. Morne assured me I could use his rifle if I needed to. I decided I really didn't care. I was here to hunt. I could hunt just as well with the bow. Heck, give me a knife, a bit of obsidian flint...
The drive to the Uhuru ranch was quite memorable. We left the airport and headed for Thabazimbi, threaded our way through a maze of highways that could be confused with any urban setting in the United States. Is this the Africa that blankets seemingly all media coverage out of this continent? European and Asian automobiles jostle for space as Morne's little red jeep threads its way out of the urban jungle. As the sun sets, the African bush peeks through the slim slice of civilization that is the road. Brief glimpses of unidentifiable antelope in the distance. Blesbok herds fading into the tall grass. Tantalizing hints of Kudu disappearing over a distant ridge.
Then the bush closes in. Dense, clumped and immense swaths of forest. Paved road thins out as we drive on. The headlights of the jeep overpower the dim light of the waning moon. Hunting's going to be good, Morne grins from the drivers seat. I nod uncomprehendingly. I've no idea what that means. What does good mean in the context of an African safari? All I can think of is this; I'm in Africa. I'm *IN* freaking Africa. No way! Yes way!...
Abruptly, we turn into a dirt country road and a short drive later, we drive into the Uhuru Hunting Lodge. I'm dirty, smell like I've been stuck on airplanes for 20 hours. No time for a tour, even less for pleasantries. I'll come get you guys tomorrow at 7:00 am. Stretch your muscles, check your bow, settle your nerves down. With that, Morne bid us good night. I walk into my private cabin and a date with a hot shower.
You're in Africa. The voice in my head is giddy with excitement. No I'm not. I'm somewhere else, suspended between continents. I'm worried about work, wife, the dog. My garden might wilt. I pause to check the stubble on my chin, and decide shaving is optional for the rest of the week. So shut up already and get some sleep. Tomorrow you hunt. Don't make a fool of yourself. Try not to be such an obvious greenhorn. Despite the tiredness seeping into my bones, I feel a shiver of primal excitement. It's time to strip the flimsy city slicker sheen off. Let the wolf out
Wonder what he's like. You know, the wolf. Does he howl? Is he blind like a newborn? Is he a terrible shot with the rifle? Will he trip over the bowstring? Fumble every stalk? Will the wolf walk away from the kill? You'll find out soon enough. The voice smirks disquietingly.
Last thoughts as I drift off to sleep. Hope the thatched roof is thick enough to repel the curious leopard...
My cabin at the Uhuru Hunting Lodge; and yes, the two feet of thatch are quite cat-proof.
Labels: Africa
posted by Suman Palit at
9:22 PM
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