Slowly, the huge orange fireball detached itself from the horizon. It almost seemed as if the Zulu sun was bidding me farewell for the last time, and I felt a little melancholic. But with the words, ‘Wait a minute, have you seen the sunrises and sunsets in the Kalahari Desert? They’re the best I’ve ever seen in my life. This is nothing compared to that!’ It was 5:05 a.m. and we had been driving south on the N2 for thirty-five minutes. But it wasn’t just any drive, it was my last drive. My last drive and my last hours in KwaZulu-Natal, in Zulu country, because Christiaan and I were on our way to the airport in Richards Bay.
What an unforgettable five months it had been. How quickly and yet how slowly the time had passed, and what I had experienced, learned and enjoyed! What I had discovered and also – what I had endured! The last five months at Bhejane had been so many things, including many contrasts, but one thing was certain: they had never been boring! My ‘backpack’ was now full of experiences, I had photographed countless motifs and experienced unique situations. And I was now a nature guide!
I had covered countless kilometres on foot in Kuleni and in the wilderness, and I had had countless amazing encounters with animals. My encounters with ‘the giraffe’ in particular will always remain in my memory! The first time I got so close to this animal on foot, over and over again! But it wasn’t the only ‘first time’. I had experienced countless ‘first times’ in the last few months: the first time encountering a rhino and elephant on foot, for example. The first time dehorning a rhino. The first time sleeping under the stars in the wilderness, among wild animals. The first time I found a potentially deadly scorpion on my backpack – which wasn’t deadly after all. The first time I prevented an equally deadly spider, the black widow, from entering my hut (didn’t I tell you about that?! There’s so much I haven’t told you!). Taking blood from a green mamba for the first time – the report will follow as soon as it has been approved. I heard hundreds of birds for the first time and saw countless plants for the first time in my life. I worked as a real guide for the first time, led a tour and explained nature to people – on a game viewer and on foot.
On the way there, I learned an incredible amount and crammed an incredible amount. To be completely honest, it wasn’t always fun and was quite stressful for me at times. ‘Persevere’ was my motto, and I even remembered a phrase from my personal protection training: ‘You can give up, just not today. Tomorrow’ had been a common mantra there – and it works!
I literally went back to school and often felt like an eighteen-year-old again. This was not least due to my wild fellow students, most of whom were between nineteen and twenty years old, and the corresponding rules – which they so desperately needed. I had touched – and crossed – my comfort zone all too often and had ultimately become a little jaded. A lot of things that would have excited me five months ago now barely registered. In a way, that made me more resilient and stronger. But I also learned my limits and realised what is really important to me.
Now that time was over and great new adventures awaited me! I took with me a wealth of new knowledge and understanding, but also a good handful of new friends and valuable contacts, and I knew that Graham would be right: ‘Africa is now in your heart.’ Yes, I will definitely come back! But I wasn’t gone yet, just somewhere else.
a stranger in a private jet
Richards Bay Airport was small. Very small. Only the airport in Thailand to Koh Chang Island was smaller. It didn’t even have walls. At least Richards Bay Airport had walls. At 6:14 a.m., I stumbled into the airport hall, or rather the ‘airport room,’ with my two well-filled suitcases and my olive backpack and was initially confused: ‘Where can I check in here? Where can I drop off my luggage?’ I followed the sign for ‘Departures’ and after twenty metres found myself standing in front of a single small metal detector (which scans for metal on your body) and a conveyor belt. The security guard looked at me with wide eyes. I was definitely in the wrong place; after all, I had to check in my suitcases before going through security.
‘Where is the check-in?’ I asked a woman who looked like an employee.
‘Here at the front, on the right, but it’s not open!’
Okay, so much for ‘arriving an hour and a half early,’ I thought, and rolled my suitcases to the two rows of benches in the airport lounge.
At 8:25 a.m., the flight took off in a small Embraer 170 aircraft bound for Johannesburg. I arrived at Johannesburg Airport after a good hour and a half and was a little confused: the signage wasn’t really ideal. It took me a few questions to find the right way to my connecting flight, and then of course I had to hurry again. On top of that, I had once again made the mistake I was so prone to making: I bought a much-needed hot coffee in the transit area, only to discover that I had to go through security again. This meant gulping down what felt like boiling liquid and scalding everything organic in my mouth. Not exactly my idea of a relaxing coffee break. My mouth was burning and I felt strange. But not just because of the pain in my mouth.
Surrounded by all the ‘urban’ people, I felt somehow out of place. I had thought I would be happier to experience a bit of urban life again, but it was the opposite. With my dark green shorts, boots and hat, I stood out, I was different – in an unattractive way. Just a few hours earlier, it had been completely different, and the ‘relief’ I had imagined failed to materialise.
If I had thought that the Embraer 170 was small, I was proven wrong. The plane from Johannesburg to Upington, my final destination, was considerably smaller. No one was sitting next to me. That was because there was no seat next to me. There were only three rows of seats in total, and one of them was just a single seat by the window. The size of the aircraft was actually more like a large private jet than a passenger plane, but at least it was a Rolls Royce – at least the turbines were.
I put my small headphones in my ears and started listening to the hard rock band Five Finger Death Punch – the music I had been listening to while working out in Kuleni. Suddenly, the image of the small gym flashed before my inner eye and I felt a strong, spontaneous longing inside me. So the gym was the first thing I missed. After six hours. Strange!
dry air
At the airport in Upington, I realised that it was even smaller than Richards Bay. The small plane had taxied right up to the ‘airport building’ and we didn’t have to walk twenty metres to get to the baggage carousel.
Outside the airport, without air conditioning, it was hot. Very hot. But surprisingly not unbearable. That was because it was noticeably dry. Very dry. Unlike the temperature in Kuleni, the humidity here felt like -5 percent. I switched my mobile phone to reception mode and was just about to go through the documents for the trip again when my luggage arrived on the conveyor belt. ‘That was quick.’ I lifted my two suitcases off the conveyor belt and just a few minutes later they were in Rocco’s white Toyota Fortuner.
Rocco and Elize were the landlords of my accommodation in Upington and were super friendly! They picked me up from the airport and even offered me further transport, which I gratefully declined. It was safe in Upington and I like walking. My room was large and beautiful. After all that time in the small, holey wooden hut, I finally enjoyed having solid walls, a steady hot shower with decent water pressure and a tiled bathroom. There was air conditioning and a huge, comfortable bed. I immediately felt at home.
At the beginning of the trip, I had difficulty settling into my new role, but now I had done so. My role had changed from that of a dependent and ‘unfree’ Behajne student to a free and soon completely independent ‘customer.’ Now I was once again the one for whom everything was made ‘nice and comfortable’ – as an onlooker, I had often experienced this from the other side at Bejahen: ‘Everything for the (sacred) guest, nothing for the guide.’
the dust of the past
I pushed my suitcases into the room, which had been cooled down to a pleasant 23 degrees, and opened them. Nothing special in itself, but it was a nice, special moment: it was the first time in five months that I could leave my suitcases open without worrying that nasty spiders or clothes-eating mice might find their way in! After repacking everything as I saw fit, I decided to take the opportunity to hand wash the two T-shirts from the previous day. Who knows if I would have been able to do so over the next few days. I had only sweated in them, but the wash water immediately turned a sandy yellow-brown colour. It took several rinses before the water ran clear again, and I realised that all my clothes must have been covered in dust. Not house dust, but fine, red sand dust. It had been everywhere in Kuleni, so I hadn’t even noticed it anymore. But here, where it wasn’t so dusty, it suddenly stood out! I had to smile a little. I would be spending the next fortnight in a roof tent in the Kalahari Desert. DESERT! I was pretty sure there would be even more sand dust there.
After I had finished everything, I wanted to explore the green garden of the Morgenbos Guesthouse and maybe dip my feet in the cool pool. However, the owners, Elize and Rocco, had the same idea, and I was just about to turn away so as not to disturb them when they spotted me:
“Come on, let’s cool off together. Would you like a beer?” they called, waving me over. Of course I wanted a cold beer! So we sat together with our feet in the cool pool, drinking light beer and chatting, while their eight-year-old son splashed around in the pool and their teenage daughter sat on the edge, looking annoyed and participating in the situation in a typical teenager way. I got some valuable tips for the Kgalagadi Park, the desert and the surrounding area, and my anticipation grew more and more.
I was ready for a new chapter. I was ready for the Kalahari Desert and I was ready for the famous black-maned lions – the destination of the next expedition!
