CHRISTOFF BOTHA

Journey into Southern Africa

The raw hide of our true selves is stretched across Africa in the same way that an animal's hide is stretched over a ceremonial drum.
We have to sacrifice something - and like the drum's hide, be stretched, and often beaten, to grow and experience.
Is true Africa a myth? Granted - myths and legends are the glue that have held together this bludgeoned continent and made it survive from the dawn of civilisation until today, the brink of the 21st century.
Africa describes itself through names.
Sometimes, they are colourful and descriptive. Sometimes, they act as a warning.
"Africa: Your name is strong as your earth, your fiery sun, your deep water plains, the wind that washes you.
Your name speaks of your freedom - and your suffering."
Joseph Conrad wrote these words about central Africa in Heart of Darkness. For him, a journey into Africa was a parallel to the journey within man's own heart of darkness.
For us, a party of six, a journey into Botswana, Namibia, Zimbabwe and Zambia with "We Shall See Safaris" was a journey into the heart of nature.
Nature - not only as romantics sketch it, but also with its real - and often cruel - side.
It was also a journey into our inherent nature, pummelled into softness by the excesses of city life.
Our own human nature, which hungers after the forgotten pockets of beauty that brazen "civilization" has not had the courage to gobble up, drank deeply from this journey.

Day 1: Guests of Bloemfontein-based "We Shall See Safaris", we take an overland 14-day safari into our neighbours' countries, to gain some first-hand knowledge of what Africa has to offer.
We leave Bloemfontein while dawn is still asleep. The diesel Land Rover Defender Tdi is comfort epitomised on the tarred road, snaking up first to Welkom, to pick up another enthusiast, and then to Kroonstad, where our last two guests join us.
Guide and owner of "We Shall See Safaris", Jan Schoeman, is at the wheel, as he would be for the duration of the fortnight - traversing the best and worst of tar roads, dust roads, sand roads, tracks, and no roads beyond 5000 km of travelling.
Behind the Land Rover a trailer is hitched, loaded with supplies. Later, this trailer would be both our oasis and, at times, our burden, as we ploughed heavily through the thick sands of the near-desert.
After picking up the last guests, we start heading north, leaving behind the familiar tracks of the Free State and warming to the friendlier climate that we would encounter for the rest of the tour. Past Ventersburg we stop for coffee and rusks. The sun is already up, and the town has started its morning activity. Not quite away yet. Not quite home.
Now the six of us are still polite, cushioned in our entrenched lifestyles in pseudo-city life, used to the trappings that have become our masks.
As the tour progresses, we will become more real, more honest - especially with ourselves. We head on for the Mountain of Iron, Thabazimbi, and the curtain of discovery starts raising itself.
We spot various kinds of hornbill - yellow, red and grey varieties - and the mischievously beautiful lilacbreasted and purple rollers.
Their colours of blue, purple, mauve and turquoise are lush against the drabness of winter's rest. The grey lourie caws away, an African feathered drum, and seems to follow us like an omen to most places we visit.
Twice we see what we think is the African hawk eagle, circling the clear hot sky above us, a speck on the sky's ceiling.
So strange is the surplus of these delights to us, that we often stop to gaze. Jan makes a u-turn to have a second look at a pearlspotted owl perched on a farm fence. This little soldier is no more than 18cm high, and is a perfect miniature of the owl family.
At Thabazimbi we buy Botswana Pula at 0.718 Rand. We're preparing to buy refreshments along the way.
At this stage, we have not yet realised that some things in life cannot be bought, they must be experienced. Past the shops and stores where we can buy instant rejuvenation for a few Pula, we will see things that no shop has to offer.
A bustard feather lying on a sweaty sidewalk hints that we might be lucky enough on our trip to encounter the Big Six in birds, almost more rare to spot than the bulky Big Five of the animal kingdom. Will the kori bustard, martial eagle, saddlebilled stork, ground hornbill, lappetfaced vulture and Pell's fishing owl join our list along with the elephant, lion, buffalo, leopard and rhino?
Jan warns that the rhino has been thinned out to such an extent that a sighting in natural surroundings is nearly impossible. He is right.
Lunch consists of delicious "padkos" in the shade of a camelthorn tree. Dusk settles in as we leave South Africa at Martinsdrif and camp just metres away from the dry Limpopo bed that separates our country from Botswana.
A roaring fire, a warm shower, and more bird species. We leave the roof of the tent off and gaze at the stars.
Somehow, here they are brighter, cleaner and more profuse.
I hear you, Africa, you call us closer.

Next: The Makgadikgadi Pans