African Continent

Okavango Delta By Makoro

Posted on by Laughingnomad

The Makoro Trip through the Delta
By the time the 1300 km long Okavango, southern Africa’s third largest river, enters Botswana from Angola, through the Caprivi Strip in Namibia, it begins to spread and sprawl as it is absorbed by the air and Kalahari sands and disappears in a maze of lagoons, channels and islands covering 15,000 square km-the size of Massechusetts.

We walk through black primal muck in bare feet for several yards and very very carefully climb into the canoes or Mekoros, shallow-draft dugouts that are hewn from ebony or sausage-tree logs. Two passengers sit low or lie in the canoe with baggage between their knees and a poler (ours was a barefoot 16 year old with tiny dreads) stands in the stern with a ngashi-a pole made from the Magonano tree. The poler negotiates the labyrinthine waterways on the two-hour ride through the reeds and yellow and blue lilies of the shallow Delta to our camp on a Delta island. The sound of the poling is rythmic-the ride quiet
and restful.

After setting up the tents Bob and the rest of the group went on the two hour sundown walk to sight animals. You are not going, the guides ask me. I say, no I am going to stay here and be quiet. They all smile knowingly-this they understand. I stay in camp, lean up against a downed dead tree and meditate myself into Bliss. When the trekkers return we have dinner. The polers sit with us-their daily rations are 500 g of mielie meal, 250g of white sugar, six tea bags and salt and powdered milk. But when we have all dished up Rod offers them each a portion of what is left of our dinner. I sleep out under the stars that night with Rod and the polers and some of the others-Bob in the tent.

AIDS & The Ocavango Delta

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Wed May 29-30 , 2002
Can’t stop in Maun to check email because nothing opens until 10am. Gary takes us into the Delta on his Safari wagon with two long seats back to back down the middle of the truck bed.

As we drive through town he stops by the cemetery on the outskirts of the town to explain all the new graves covered in green awnings to keep the evil spirits away; 37% of the people in Botswana has the HIV Virus. The epidemic is exacerbated by the local belief system that you get AIDS from condoms…that the way to cleanse yourself from the disease is to sleep with a virgin-so there are a lot of rapes. Many of the locals, according to a South African newspaper think AIDS stands for something like “Americans Interfering…” I can’t find the exact quote now.

Thousands of graves-row upon rows-are all covered with new blue awnings “to keep away the evil spirits.” They won’t win this one Gary says. Don’t fraternize with the locals he warns as he gets back in the truck.

Later we read an article in the Botswana Guardian reporting on a recent AIDS Awareness campaign that said that superstitious beliefs are being blamed for a rise in ritual murders, trafficking in human body parts to obtain substances for potions they believe will strengthen them against misfortune, and false AIDS cures. Human sacrifice is needed, many Africans believe, for the purpose of obtaining a victim’s life force through a potion. The article went on to say that the Traditional Healers Association of South Africa has condemned healers who tell their patients suffering from AIDS that the disease can be cured through sex with a virgin.

In Mozambique, health officials are cataloguing traditional medical practices with anthropologists from the Maputo campus of the University of Mozambique with the aim of separating out good information from bad and legislating against promoting harmful practices, according to Dr. Manuel Ferriera. “You can’t use reason against superstition,” Musa Khumalo, a ministry official said. “Sometimes you just have to legislate against it.”

The Safari truck takes two hours and 11 minutes (Bob says) through Maun, down a side road to a dirt road that takes us through Mapani trees and thorn bushes that whip the truck and threaten us, and across the Buffalo fence to the edge of the Delta where the Mekuros and the polers are waiting for us.

On the way we stop twice to give Heather time to hang her head over the side (ethanol…alcohol…poisoning from the night before, Bob says) while Gary tells us about the local people. They make their mud huts out of Termite Mound mud because the saliva from the termites that is in the mud, when mixed with water, makes a kind of very hard cement-like mud. Even though the mounds stand peak-shaped anywhere from four to 15 feet above ground, 90% of the rest of the mound is underground and it is this soil that the people dig out for their huts.

Gary says he is the local bus system for the people in the mud hut villages along the way. When he comes through they ask to catch a ride on the way back to Maun…then they catch a ride with him on his next trip into the Delta in 2-3 days. They shop mainly for sugar, flour, tea, pop (sudsa) and meat, he says. Well, at least it keeps the brain functioning if not the rest of the body.

At the Buffalo Fence a woman appears who opens the gate and counts us to make sure the same number of people that go in come out again.

Maun & Sitatunga Camp

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Tues May 28,2002 To Sitatunga Camp near Maun Botswana
Up at 5:30 again. Had wieners, eggy bread (French Bread) with honey and canned spaghetti for breakfast. James is doing his usual antic-body stuff while eating his eggy bread-“fucking sweet honey!” he says out of the blue and everybody laughs-suddenly awake. James is usually very animated and pretty funny.

It’s 200 km to Maun (rhymes with down) where we will wonder around the town for a couple hours before we continue on to our camp for the night. On the way we see two Oryx and Rod explains how their unique breathing aparatus works although I can’t remember any of it. Later we saw Ostriches again. Rod says they are the largest birds in the world and they can kill a human by stamping them with their feet. When they run it looks as if they are running on a water bed.

We stop for toilet and suddenly a big army truck filled with army guys pulls in after us….oh, no we all yell…but they were just checking to see if we were alright and pulled back out on the road again. George hides the meat from the veterinary road checks that are looking for meat with lung disease before we take off again.

The truck slows down again and we look to see a dead cow by the side of the road with about a dozen or so vultures hovering around it. The truck stops so we view the whole grizzly process: One vulture gets on top of the cow and punctures a hole near the rear of the stomach. The entire head of the vulture disappears into the hole and then others take their turn. As the truck starts to pull out again everyone lets out a YUKKK…as one of the birds sticks his head up the bum! Rod says we should be grateful to the vulture and the hyena…keeps disease from spreading…The birds are even built for good hygiene, he says, hardly any feathers on the head and neck for smooth entering of the hole…so what’s so sick we remind ourselves…we eat dead meat too!

Many of the younger women walking along side the road are wearing their hair in plaits and the young guys have those tiny dreads with heads shaved around the sides. I was told later in Swakopmund Namibia by a young guy with the same hairstyle that they got it (hair shaved nearly to the top of the head) from an early American black rap star! When I teased him about naughty rap lyrics he just laughed but a couple older black Africans who overheard me nodded their heads up and down in assent-all the while making faces. Don’t think the older ones approve of the young black male African penchant for black American rap!

Some of the older women from the Herero tribe are wearing long Victorian-style dresses that flare way out at the bottom. The unusual dress, which is now a tribal trademark, was forced upon them by prudish German missionaries in the late 19th century. On their heads the women wear a huge “hat” that looks much like a very wide bow. What is very distinctive about these women, however, is the regal and proud way they carry themselves when dressed this way.

We will see some of these women later in Namibia. Actually, the whole outfit reminded me of the red and white dress and headbow that the stereotypical “mammy” wore in early American movies. Apparently when in traditional dress the men wore a variation of the Scottish tartan kilt but we don’t see any of those.

We stop for internet but the computers are down.

May 28 Sitatunga Camp
The WildLife Adventure.com truck is at the camp…Kumuka truck comes in and we look for Damian and Melissa who transfered to the Kumuka in Vic Falls so they could get down to Johannesberg…you’d think we were all long lost friends as our riders let out a squeal and run to hug them.

Rod has contracted with a Safari Tour company to take us into the Delta on Mekoros so Gary from the company stops by to give us details. Gary, originally from New Zealand, lives in Maun and the locals call him: “Geeza.” Mekoros are an ancient way of plying the delta; canoes carved out of tree trunks with a poler that stands in back pulling the canoe forward.

The other riders party in the bar which didn’t close until 2am and the music was so loud you couldn’t sleep…even with ear plugs…I stayed surly for two days. The Delta will offer respite…

Buffalo Fence & Planet Baobab

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May 27, 2002
We see the 3000km of 1.5 meter high “Buffalo Fence” along side the road on the way to Okavango Delta in Botswana. It’s actually a series of high-tensile steel wire barriers that run through some of Botswana’s wildest terrain. They were first erected in 1954 to segregate wild buffalo herds from domestic free-range cattle and thwart the spread of foot and mouth disease. However, no one has yet proved that the disease is passed from species to species.

The problem is that the fences not only prevent contact between wild and domestic bovine species but they also prevent other wild animals from migrating to water sources along age-old seasonal routes. While Botswana has set aside large areas for wildlife protection, these areas don’t constitute independent ecosystems. As a result, Botswana”s wildebeest population has declined by 99% over the past decade and all remaining buffalo and zebra are stranded north of the fences.

This story is told in detail in the book “Cry of the Kalahari” by Mark and Delia Owens who spent several years in the central Kalahari and reported seeing tens of thousands of migrating Wildebeest as well as herds of zebra, giraffe and other animals stopped short by the Kuke Fence that stretches along the northern boundary of the central Kalahari Game Reserve. Some became entangled in it, while others died of exhaustion searching for a way around it. The remainder were cut off from their seasonal grazing and watering places in the north and succumbed to thirst and starvation.

The last great tragedy occurred during the drought of 1983 in which wildebeest heading for the Okavango waters were barred by the Kuke Fence. They turned east along the fence towards Lake Xau, only to find the lake already dried up. Thousands died as a result.

The upside of the fence is that it keeps cattle out of the Okavango Delta which is essential if the Delta’s wildlife is to survive. However, the new 80 km long Northern Buffalo Fence north of the Delta has opened a vast expanse of wildlife-rich but as yet unprotected territory to cattle ranching. Safari operators wanted the fence set as far north as possible to protect the seasonally flooded Selinda Spillway; prospective cattle ranchers wanted it set as far south as possible, maximizing new grazing land; and the local people didn’t want it at all because they were concerned it would act as a barrier to them as well as to wildlife. The government sided with the ranchers.

We pass a truck accident-the truck had bounced over a 6 foot open ditch dug out right across the road-the accident must have happened at night-and then another truck hit the first truck and turned over…nearby we noticed a speed limit of 90km per hour…

Veterinary Stop. In 1939 Cattle Lung Disease
(pleuropneumonia) that kills up to 50% of infected animals was iradicated. But it resurfaced in 1995 when it was re-introduced across international borders-probably from Namibia-and quickly spread. The government responded by constructing four veterinary fences around the northwestern corner of the country but the disease was not contained and authorities wound up slaughtering 320,000 head of cattle.

We all have to get out and walk with our shoes through a medicated bath while the truck drives through a pool of the same solution.

At camp the black African woman behind the bar, Tops, was fascinated by the computer when I plugged it in to recharge it. To her delight I showed her how to use it and this is what she wrote:

“Tops i really loved Unice by the night we were at Planet Baobab because she taught me how to use the Computer it was on 27 of may the day of monday 2oo2 i was with KB and
GOSA

welcome Planet Baobab first thing you will find Tops with big
smile on her face as she is trying to use this machine!!!!!

hi tops are you playing nicely with this machine and laughing
while you are doing it. no dear whats the use of laughing whiie still learning? now i have to say something about my colics KT
LULU GRACE TWIST JOHN GOMAN BONES YAPS BEAUTY
and ISAAC

I didn’t correct her spelling. Tops and KB played Botswana dance muusic on the cassette player and danced the Wazoo-Wazoo for us-throwing their hips all over the bar room.

Chobe National Park

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The border crossing from Zambia into Botswana is at the border post of Kazungula. The truck ride on the Kazungula Ferry across the Zambezi River is not much of a hassle. Rod tells us that one year the ferry sank and about 40 people died; we sit silently during the crossing.

The topography becomes almost perfectly flat and we see thousands of acres of sunflower fields and scrub brush far as the eye can see in all directions. To the little town of Kasane to fill up with gas, go to the Bureau de Change, buy camera batteries, and blankets because it is winter here now and the nights will be cold the rest of the way. Stocked up on junk food again in the small market; Botswana has a good trade relationship with South Africa so we see things in the stores here that we haven’t seen since we got to the continent.

Kasane sits amid a shady, riverine woodland at the meeting point of Botswana, Zambia, Namibia and Zimbabwe and the confluence of the Chobe and Zambezi Rivers. It is the administrative center and the gateweay to Chobe National Park so the small town is full of activity. Then we drove down the road to Chobe Resort for the afternoon where we had cold drinks in the bar and some of the girls swam in the ice cold swimming pool.

Chobe National Park
Rod contracted with a Safari company to take us in raised-seat land rovers through the Park about an hour before dark when all the animals will be feeding and watering around the Chobe River. On the way, the driver calls the elephant dung on the highway “chocolate cake.” The driver talks about elephants…eats 250 kg of food a day so he has huge dung. They have 7 sets of teeth so when he has used all his teeth you can tell he is older because you see bark and sticks in the dung.

Elephants are so bad at destroying trees-just because they can, the driver says-and overgrazing-so that the elephant herds have to be culled. Sometimes a couple hundred at a time. They have to make sure they kill all the members of a family, however, or any remaining members will return to get retribution.

Hippos run 40 km an hour and can swim 30 km an hour to find grass…the water monitor (snake) didn’t have a shower because he didn’t know you were coming for a picture, the driver says. About 20 female elephants and their babies are in the water-males always off alone…Southland Giraffe…Impala society-only one male to a herd so these young males will soon have to fight to stay or be kicked out of the herd…Bob says Homo Sapiens are known for not getting along either…everyone laughs. Kudu Antelope have huge antlers on the male…when giraffes drink they spread their front legs which really looks funny…Impalas make a noise like a pig…we see a lioness with large teats so she must have cubs near…we follow her…the African light on the red clay landscape is breathtaking….water buffalo…but the hilarious part of the trip is the driver…look, there is a rare Red Sable, he says as he roars by…we finally get him to stop at the Kudo but when he stops so all we see are bushes…!

Camp at Thebe River Lodge near Kasane
As we drove in we wave to the woman from New York that used to live in Walla Walla and the guy from Seoul that were on the Booze Cruise with us at Victoria Falls-their tour group on the same route. James the camp dog happily greeted us; the camps all have watch dogs that will warn us if strange two or four legged animals enter the camp at night. When I went into the bar for a Fanta (think the whole third world has a monopoly on Fanta), I noticed a black board advertising Bone Marrow Soup so I ordered a small bowl before dinner; was good but was so spicy couldn’t really taste the marrow.

By this time Bob had joined me and while we were there the woman from Walla Walla came in. She had been a school teacher (I had guessed it). Now she has decided she wants to work for a Methodist Aid group in Nairobi-I want to do something in Africa she says-I really like “The Blacks.” The way she said it made me feel very uncomfortable. She kept making references to Bob about finding what he was looking for…finally Bob told her he wasn’t looking for a thing. Maybe she knew more than he did…or maybe it was she that was looking…

Victoria Falls & Rafting The Zambezi In Zambia

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Sun May 25, 2002
Up at 5:30 for the sunrise micro-light (motorcycle with wings) ride to view the falls and the geologic formation left by them over thousands of years. The half hour ride is breathtaking…the falls have cut their way back in a zig-zag fashion four or five times.
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A short way down the river is the bridge where people can scare themselves silly with bungee jumping; there are a variety of other activities that the tour companies can soak you for…Bob and I choose an all-day raft trip down the Zambezi River.

Zambezi Raft Trip
Normally the rafts put in at the bridge by the Falls that crosses the Zambezi River into Zimbabwe. The water is low this time of the year so our lean and experienced black African river guides had to drive us to a put-in point down the river. One guide, who will accompany us in a kayak says he has competed in kayaking events all over the world.

The mile walk straight down a 45 degree angle branch ladder to the water nearly killed me; had to turn around and go down backward the last third of the way. Bob had gone on ahead of me-the bastard I think to myself-and a long-haired guy from Hong Kong lets me balance on his shoulder the last 100 yards…am so grateful to him…you did it yourself he says…I just helped a little bit he said graciously…bless his heart. If I had known the walk down was like this I would never have gone rafting! Then had to walk around one rapid and Bob almost fell into some gooky ooze crawling over the rocks.

However back in the river, the rafts were small, we all paddled as we hit a few good rapids and had a good time. One boat flipped with a load of tourists from the Zimbabwe side. Up bobbed my Hong Kong friend that the kayak couldn’t reach and I nearly unhinged his wrist pulling him into our boat…use the collar of the life vest next time the river guide says to me. I tell my friend from Hong Kong that now we are even-we have saved each other-and we giggle.

The route back up to the top of the gorge was nearly as bad a killer as the route down. I was the straggler…even with the climber’s breathing technique…the river guide following me to make sure I didn’t croak..guzzled a Fanta at the top in near desperation and groaned when I heard that the Lorelle and the others who took the power boat trip were lifted out by helicopter!

Buffalo Steak Dinner
That night we drove into Livingstone town about 15 minutes away and ate a buffalo steak dinner at a pub that is owned by one of the safari tour leaders. On the way we stop at a pharmacy so Lorelle can get some “mozi” repellant and Bob bought a skin drum for $3 from one of the young guys selling things at the side of the truck while we wait. Funny how this selling goes-he didn’t want a drum but every time he said no the guy would come down and then finally Bob figured what the heck…now we have to send it home.

Pioneer Camp in Lusaka

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We pull into camp outside Lusaka, the capital of Zambia. We listen to CNN…TV for the first time in weeks and hear yet another warning about terrorism in NYC…funny-Josh never mentions anything in his emails…I think maybe no one is paying any attention to the warnings anymore…maybe they are just political ploys to keep the hype going. Then we hear that the Palestinians that were holed up in the Bethlehem church are shipped out to various European countries…we all double over with laughter…why not Siberia we say? Then we hear that Nelson Mandela is scheduled to meet with the President of Malawi.

This night I finally got a full blast hot shower…what a pleasure…

New Words In Lusaka

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In Australia, New Zealand and South Africa your car “hoots” not honks. Hoot, I tell them, is what an owl does! Rod says Geese “honk” and cars “hoot!” We laugh. In New Zealand Fi says “Rattle Your Dags” means to get you upset-dags referring to the hard little poop balls that stick to the sheep’s wool on his rear end and then “rattle” when he runs. “Tarmac” refers to a blacktop highway and “sunnies” are sunglasses. “Bakkies” are pick-ups. “Robots” are street lights. “Nappies” are diapers. I love learning the distinctions between these new words and phrases and the way the U.S. uses English; helps get a “feel” for the other English language cultures.

Shopping in Lusaka
Spent half a day at an Arizona-Shopping-Mall on the edge of Lusaka. For the first time we get a sense of the extremes in Africa-rich and poor; none of the villagers we have seen so far have any access to these goods in the city…even if they had the money they don�t have any way to get there.

The campers all got their consumer shit and loaded plastic sacks full of drinks and goodies onto the truck. Rod calls it “baby food.” Email here is very expensive-costs me $5 just to check it with no time for replies. There are armed guards all over the mall. On the way out we see a sign reading “Civil Society For Poverty Reduction Youth Project-Coffins Sold Here.” Rod says coffins are one of the biggest up and coming businesses in Africa because of all the deaths due to AIDS.

The day is another long day on the road. I join Janine in the front seat for awhile. She groans about having to get back into the rat race in London when she gets back. She talks about the rudeness and abruptness of everyone and how it will feel after being in Africa…we agree that it must just be a big-city attitude. Popular music is her passion. As with most of the rest she will be looking for work when she returns.

To Lusaka Zambia

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Tues May 21-22, 2002 Long Drive to Lusaka the capitol of Zambia
Up at 5 am again and on the truck by 6:30. Take the whole day just to drive to Lusaka-about 12 hours or 800 km on the “bloody truck” as Janine put it in her diary.

Stopped off in a village in the early afternoon; watched two women under a tree lather up a naked little boy-child about 3 years old with soap and water from a plastic bucket but we are too respectful to take a picture. Whenever the truck stops raggedy kids materialize instantly…seemingly out of nowhere. Waiting for…hoping for a handout. I throw out two little bags of chips…The two biggest ones got them, I tell Rod! He answers with a cynical grin…African Democracy!

Then a black African adult about the age of 40 walked past the truck and yells at us bitterly, “What are you doing here! You are from free countries! You look like prisoners sitting up there! And don’t give the kids anything! You just teach them to be beggars!” I don’t blame him one bit for his bitterness…I want to know about his bitterness…otherwise how am I to know how to act-particularly in regard to my government’s foreign policies.

We see signs for Zambian beer called Mosi…I see a sign “Anti Corruption Commission!” Rod says “yes and there is an anti corruption commission on the anti corruption commission! Another sign…Knowledge is Power Bar and Restaurant…I can go with that!

African Presidential Excess
On the way into Lusaka all the traffic was stopped by uniformed policewomen and then we finally saw the reason for it; the president in an entourage of about a dozen vehicles…including an ambulance! Someone suggested he was probably on his way to the airport. Later in the South African Cape Times we read “Zambian President Levy Mwanawasa was clearly hoping to impress First World lenders when he ordered his ministers and officials to board a 69 seater bus bound for the airport. He was en route to South Africa to attend the World Economic Forum summit. Apparently the presidential motorcade to see the President off at the airport has become rather a drain on resources so in the interests of cost-saving, the Zambian leader has said it will become standard practice for ministers and party officials to bus it to the airport whenever they want to wave him goodbye.”

This is nothing compared to Zimbabwe’s president however. The U.S. is threatening to recall three commercial airliners sold to the country two years ago for nonpayment. It has been reported that Robert Mugabe will commandeer a plane at a moment�s notice so that his wife can go on shopping sprees in Paris-even having the seats removed so there would be space for all the packages. In the future, with international pressure, I hope this phase of Africa’s development is going to go the way of Uganda’s Idi Amin which is OUT!

On the way into town saw a huge billboard that said  “Do not allow people to become perpetually dependent! Do not give alms to beggars!” I think to myself this town is fighting a losing battle. Another signs read “Polite Notice-No Bus Stops.”

I keep losing track of the date…Bob has to remind me to take our Larium for prevention of Malaria on Sundays.

Every time the truck stops Damian from Australia gets out and runs up like a little kid to ask James “Are we there yet” Damian and Melissa sit behind me and I get to talk to them a lot. I like them. Once Damian made a cynical remark and Melissa apologetically said “Isn’t he terrible?” I said, oh no, that is just black humor! It helps us get through life!

Yellow Chicken Camp

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May 20, 2002
Then to Yellow Chicken Campsite and dinner in the dark. The charming camp, in the middle of a huge 40 year-old German farm, is run by a Brit and his wife who was 8 months pregnant. There is a law now that Whites cannot own land but this farmer’s land was grandfathered in because he had owned it for so long.

Soap and towel even…and so clean…and smells so good with candles burning everywhere…and hot water even…this is the nicest camp yet! The girls all have a shower the night we arrive so I decide to wait until morning. On my way I see how two black African guys have to bucket the water up out of the well…then into a barrel a few feet away…then pull it bucket by bucket up into an elevated water reservoir. Then a fire is built in an outside fire burner to heat the water. I stubbornly return to my tent without a shower.

Lessons from an African Bush Camp Operator
Janine and Sarah stayed up and listened to the camp operator who has lived in several countries in Africa over a period of 15 years talk about things he has seen and experienced. He said most people are Christian but most only convert because they are given a bag of maize or a pair of shoes and still continue their own spiritual traditions including witchcraft.

He also said that if a woman gets pregnant outside of wedlock that she has to marry the father of the child. So sometimes if a man sees a woman he wants he rapes her until she is pregnant and then she has to marry him. I don’t know which countries he was talking about here. About AIDS, the locals don�t understand the disease and don’t believe that condoms are of any use-hence the proliferation of the disease.

The operator was particularly adamant about stopping the food and other aid that people get…he believes it keeps them from becoming self sufficient…teaches them to always have a hand out…that it would be terrible in the beginning to withdraw the aid but in the long run it would be better for the people.

In fact an article appeared in the South African Cape Times a few weeks after this in which it was reported that dozens of nongovernmental organizations rejected the final declaration of the United Nations World Food Summit in Rome saying it was “more of the same failed medicine” and would not end hunger.

Distribution of resources is almost impossible due to bad roads, insufficient trucks and buses, a poor public transportation system.This results in 90% of the villages and towns living in isolation having no access to the market and no access to money. One hundred and fifty poorly developed countries are leaning on 25 developed ones. If one figures in the cost of transporting, servicing, warehousing and preserving food, then the cost of a single meal for a refugee in some camp is higher than the price of a dinner in the most expensive restaurant in Paris, one critic has said.

The answer, many are thinking, is a multidimensional approach to the develop-ment of healthy societies: develop regions especially through education; encourage local societies participation in public life including ability to dialogue; observe fundamental human rights; begin democratization and develop interdependence. This will not be easy. It will require new politicians who care about development-not warlords who sew contention in order to retain their own political power long enough so they can drain the country of money and resources.

The camp operator said that he feels sorry for African-Americans who come to Africa looking for their roots…they leave devastated when they discover they have absolutely nothing in common except color…and being black means nothing here because practically everyone is black…so no one is going to greet the black Americans with open arms-particularly well-fed affluent ones and the Africans assume the blacks who come here must be rich or they couldn’t get here in the first place…and we travelers without a doubt are all immeasurably rich compared to the locals.

In the morning as we were leaving I asked the camp operator what the best thing was about living in Africa…the beauty and wide open free space, he said waving his arm out toward the sun rising over ripe wheat..and being able to live the way you want to with no 9-5 job!