November 12, 2014
By Taylor Schlichting (Colby College)
We drove in on a dark, smooth paved road initiating the feeling of novelty, the thrill of being somewhere different. Wide eyed, overwhelmed and excited, we pass tour busses crammed with international tourists wielding cameras with lenses the size of small children. This is Etosha National Park, the wildlife metropolis of Namibia.
The Okakuejo campsite, our base for the next three days, has lush green grass. In contrast to the arid, dusty accommodations we are familiar with, this is an indescribable luxury. We splay out on it as the clear turquoise waters of an enormous pool glimmer behind us, giving the artificial sense of abundance. As conservation-minded students we acknowledge many of the unnecessary consumptive aspects of tourism enterprises, but hey, with the option of a rare and delicious dip into a cool body of water in front of us we are not complaining.
Walking through the car camping section is an overcrowded chaotic mess of tents, people, and vehicles. Each allotted space is jammed next to another, a noisy and unusual experience compared to our serene nights of bush camping. The use of toilets and gender divided bathrooms is unfamiliar, and Sam unintentionally and unknowingly wandered into the women’s facilities on our first morning there.
The most imperative rule when exploring Etosha, as explained by our instructors prior to our arrival, is that you can never get out of your car. As we head out of the colossal stone gates of Okakuejo and depart the noisy infrastructure of civilization, we recognize the rationale for this regulation. Almost immediately we encounter a herd of around twenty blue wildebeest no less than five meters from the road. We are close enough to make out the smooth texture of their silvery fur and the individual dark hairs along their mane. We peer through car windows, our cameras rapidly clicking, all the while the herd acts blissfully unaware of our presence. Throughout our visit, we will observe this indifference toward cars and gawking tourists as a common behavior of Etosha wildlife.
Indifferent wildlife in Etosha (Becca McGehee)
The landscape of the park is varied and vast, ranging from grassy plains to savannah woodlands, with some of the land so flat and infinite that thunderstorms can be seen many kilometers in the distance. Water points are scattered throughout the park to draw animals closer to visitors, thus we encounter various groups of slumbering lions, curious packs of hyenas, and bold jackals, all less than ten meters from where we sit safely behind car doors.
Curious spotted hyena (Becca McGehee)
We also get in close proximity to many elusive birds and reptiles that typically hide from human sight. Pausing to peer into the vegetation at these smaller creatures, tourist cars often stop alongside ours under the impression that we have spotted a larger charismatic mammal in the distance.
Close encounter with a spotted eagle owl (Sam Wasserman)
At night the watering hole at the campsite is our entertainment. The four of us lounge on constructed benches drinking cheap red wine, a barbed wire façade in front of us, and observe the nightly activities of rhino and lion. The wildlife gradually appears from the shadows and inches toward the illuminated glassy pool to drink. Aware of our early wake-up the following morning, at around 11pm (2-3 hours after our usual bedtime) we wander back to our tents.
The three days were wild and civilized, constructed and natural, chaotic and still, and at the end of our magical experience in the park we were inspired, revitalized and ready to return to the bush.
Black rhino at the Okaukuejo Water Hole, Etosha National Park (Becca McGehee)
Top photo by Sam Wasserman.