Written on October 30, 2014.
By Rebecca McGehee (Carleton College)
Not a single day passes when something extraordinary does not occur here. On Saturday (25 Oct), we climbed up Ganamub Mountain with two game guards from Sesfontein Conservancy, Ricky and Pienaar. It had a prominence of about 430m, but was one of the highest peaks around (total elevation 1001m). It’s difficult to describe what hiking looks like here, but it’s nothing like what we have in the States. It’s as if the entire landscape is crumbling. Anytime you put your foot on a rock, there’s a chance that it won’t hold you. There are no trails except for those made by the wildlife. Gazing out over the landscape from the top, we could see giraffe and springbok in the distance, grazing in the last rays of the sun.
That night around the fire, we talked about our religious beliefs with Ricky and Pienaar. They are both Herero, originally coming from the Himba tribe, and believe in the Holy Fire. Through it, they are able to communicate with their forefathers who provide them with guidance. As we struggled to understand the complexities of their beliefs, they struggled to understand ours. “I believe in the balance of nature.” As we each tried to explain our own spirituality, I think they gave up trying to understand, simply saying, “It is good to meet new people.” And so it is.
On the 27th, we moved back to Wereldsend due to car trouble and the looming due date for our first Grinnell entries. The Grinnell is an integral part of the program. From the time you wake up until the time you fall asleep, you record every observation you make, and then write it up in a formal journal entry. Each entry ranges from 25-55 pages. It is time consuming, but I have found it to be one of the best ways of cementing our blooming knowledge about Namibian natural history.
Yet, even at Wereldsend, there is rarely a dull moment. On the morning of the 28th, I was awoken by Rebekah asking, “Is anyone awake?” Still in the midst of a dream, I sat up and said “Yes.” “Want to see a porcupine?” “Heck yes!” I was out of my sleeping bag like a bullet, literally falling out of the tent (waking up everyone else in the process). There in our pantry was a porcupine the size of a dog, munching on a potato. Apparently we had forgotten to close the door the night before. Rebekah rattled a box to scare it out. First, it ran straight for Rebekah, she yelled. Then it ran straight towards me. I yelled and jumped aside to let it waddle out of the kitchen. The last thing everyone heard before we settled down to go back to sleep (it was 5am), was “Another day in Africa…”
Porcupine in the kitchen (Bekah Karimi)
The next day, we decided to wake up at 5am to go on a game drive to Jebico Springs, about 30 minutes away. We had placed a camera trap there and needed to change the memory card. Within moments of turning off the main road onto the gravel track that leads to the spring, we had spotted a Southern pale chanting goshawk. And a black rhino. It was about 200m away, the closest sighting I’d had so far. We continued driving, rounded a corner, and there was another black rhino, even closer. We couldn’t believe it. Two black rhinos, within ten minutes of each other! In another ten minutes, we had spotted another black rhino! Unfortunately, this one had definitely heard us coming and played hide-and-seek with us before finally lumbering away. We had already collected the SD card and were pleading with Vehi to go just a little farther.
Finally, he gave in, saying he would turn around at the next riverbed. We never made it that far, because there, with her back to us, was another black rhino. I was beside myself with excitement. Whereas the other three had all heard us coming, she allowed us to continue to get closer. As we did, we had another surprise. It wasn’t just a cow, there was also a calf. We were within forty meters of them before she finally turned around.
Black rhino and calf (Becca McGehee)
Rhinos have notoriously poor eyesight, and can only see about 40m away. She surveyed us with a critical eye, and snorted. For a brief moment, l wondered if we would get to see a rhino charge. After several minutes of staring us down, she decided we weren’t worth her energy, and she and her calf trotted away, leaving us amazed, grateful, and a little saddened by their departure. I could have watched them all day. But we needed to get back to camp, and already it was beginning to get hot.
Going through the photographs from the camera trap is always exciting. Usually there are tons of Hartmann’s mountain zebra and oryx. But this group of photos included dancing ostrich (it’s a mating thing), a herd of curious kudu, a female lion, three cheetahs, and a series of photos that show a leopard chasing a zebra.
Before we knew it, it was Halloween. We had agreed to dress up as each other, drawing names to decide who would be who. We got a good laugh as Karissa emerged from her tent wearing all of Sam’s Las Lomas lacrosse gear. Taylor braided her hair to imitate my dreads, and I borrowed her flannel. But the winning moment was when Sam emerged, dressed in Karissa’s sparkly tank top and tight shorts.
For dinner we baked a chocolate cake in the solar oven, although it was so overcast that I think it actually dried, rather than cooked. Rebekah surprised us with custard. We were getting ready to go on a nighttime game drive, all in matching outfits, when Rebekah and Vehi emerged from their tents, dressed up as each other. The drive was shockingly warm, and we saw black-backed jackals stealing meat from some sort of carcass, and two aardwolves mating. We were hoping to see lions, as we’ve been hearing them around camp for the past several nights, but no such luck. This morning, however, we woke up to fresh hyena tracks. Another day in Africa.
Our matching Safari outfits on Halloween. From left to right: Taylor, Rebecca, Karissa, and Sam. Photo by Rebekah Karimi.
Top photo: From the top of Ganamub Mountain, you could see kilometers into the distance. By Rebecca McGehee.