There are some things that we just can’t seem to escape, even in the middle of the Kalahari bush! The first of these is….
Crime:
Wild Dog
The steam from the coffee cup rose in the crisp Kalahari air as Peter climbed the steps up to the wooden deck that looked out towards the pan. As he reached the deck the dawn chorus was interrupted by the crashing of an animal in the bush and the flash of a brown and red hide. Spilling his coffee, Peter spun left in time to see a large male Rooi Hartebeest breaking right around a bush at the corner of the house. The reason for the commotion became evident as a large pursuing predator loped into view from around the other side of the bush. The large Wild Dog, or African Painted Wolf, snapped, with out success at the hind legs of it’s dodging quarry. Whether it was the gasp of surprise or the splashing of coffee that bought the hunter skidding to a stop is unclear, but either way the Rooi Hartebeest took advantage of the situation and disappeared from sight.
The African Wild Dog is one of the most endangered mammals in Africa, with only about 5000 left in the wild. Protected by the government and hated by the farmer, these sly and highly organized and intelligent predators are very close to extinction. Having the reputation amongst the farming community as a predator that will kill every day without returning to finish off the previous days meal, these animals are considered to be nothing more that common criminals by most farmers.
“Quick, come look! Wild Dog” Peter called in a hoarse whisper to Fleur who had appeared in the courtyard below the deck. “Wow!” said Fleur as she stepped on to the deck, “call the kids, hurry!”. Then suddenly, and, as if unaware of its species precarious position in the food chain, the creature turned and trotted nonchalantly down the track to the water hole to join the rest of the pack. “I bet they’ve been at the cattle kraal again last night” Surmised Fleur, “Bill won’t be very pleased!” she continued.”
“Yes” replied Peter, “and if they had got that Rooi Hartebeest, it would have been another 9000 Phula for dessert!”
The second thing we haven’t been able to elude is …
Violence:
“This should be easy.” thought Peter when Fleur asked him to do Hannah’s reading with her. “Just got to watch I don’t fall asleep during the an episode of ’see Jane run’ in her reader, is all” he reasoned.
Peter and Hannah
Hannah fetched her grade 3 reader and quickly found the page. “OK, Hannah, this reading is to help you with the -ight sounds” explained Peter to the eight year old.
The little girl cleared her throat and started reading: “Brighton’s brother had been stabbed right in the chest and was bleeding badly. Some onlookers stood nearby, frightened and still. The plight of the man was not to be taken lightly. Blood gushed from his chest and he was in terrible pain….”
And so it was that, in a flash, Peter and his daughter were transported from the peaceful and serene beauty of the Botswana bush veld to the mayhem of South African suburbia with it’s indiscriminate violence and bloodshed.
Share on Facebook
Field Service in the sand
The old man on the horse peered down at me, squinting through the scratches across his taped together spectacles. “Dumela Raa.” I said to the old man by way of greeting. “Dumela Raa.” he replied. “O tsoga jang?” I asked, inquiring how he was. The formalities continued for some time before I was able to continue with my presentation.
The old man was sitting, legs dangling on either side of a rather lethargic looking horse of comparable age. A blanket cushioned his bony bottom from the sagging backbone of the aging beast. The geriatric perched aloft wore a tweed jacket that, at one time must have been fitting attire for a man of his station. The remains of the jacket, the only indication of the man’s dignity, were still worn with pride. I pondered the fact that the horse would have been as proud as the old man still was at some time in its distant past. The horse hung its grey muzzle sadly and prepared for the wait while his master chatted, settling its weight evenly.
Fleur, Ruth and Hannah
The old man’s glasses resembled the bottoms of two well worn coke bottles taped together with second hand cello tape. The glasses were tied around his head with a boot lace, in anticipation of a short trot on the part of the horse, as it might if harassed by a scrawny dog at its heels, or a group of jeering children with sticks.
With a reins of his horse and a stick in one hand he wrinkled up his nose, showing his top row of teeth as he brought the tract up to his chin with his free hand. The man peered down towards his chin through the area of glass with the least amount of scratches. I was beginning to wonder if he could see at all, when to my amazement he started to read aloud, although jerkily, as his eyes found their way between the obstacles etched across the lenses.
The old man, turned his gaze toward me, his nose still crumpled and his front teeth still protruding. I tried in vain to make eye contact, marveling at his ability to see his surrounds, “Would you like to live in the paradise shown here on the front cover” I asked, gesturing to my companion to translate into Kalaghadi. The old man’s gaze shifted again as he searched out the voice that spoke his dialect. After a few moments of discussion between the two men, my companion turned to me and said: “He says he already lives in a place that looks like this on the cover of the tract, but he says he does want a Bible.”
A long way to the next door
Well, that did it for me – do I give him a small print Bible, a large print Bible, or do I find one in Braille?
Share on Facebook
Hannah home schooling
“What day of the week is it?” – the first thoughts of the day flicker into focus as the dawn chorus spoils yet another unfinished dream. And such is life in Kang, Botswana, each day merging into the next. For most of us, it takes a few moments to figure out the the name of the day. Now, don’t get me wrong, we’re are by no means bored here, what with home schooling, meetings, field service and the planning of a trip to the Moremi and beyond. Well …. let’s just say, for the rest of the village it is permanently Sunday.
The clatter of the beat up Landcruiser as it passes by, signals 6:30 am. The electricity board pickup is the first of three vehicles that will pass our house during the course of the day – it’s tired shocks offering no resistance to the corrugation of the sand road. A chicken will flap and squawk from under the wobbling steering rack as the driver negotiates to avoid the sad looking gray donkey as it stands motionless in the middle of the road.
The barefoot boy with a wire truck and his friend will pass at 7:03 AM followed closely by three giggling teenage girls whose animated conversation floats in through our window as we sit down to breakfast and the first of two strong cups of coffee.
Maids in blue
At 7:28 AM, as I turn my head to look out of the window while I wait for Hannah to find her place in her days text book, I will see the blue dust coats of our neighbors domestic workers as they scurry to make their 7:30AM start.
A herd of goats will circumvent the dreary donkey at 7:40 AM and head to the fence across the road to try some weeds.
Home Schooling, for us, starts at 7:45AM just as the donkey in the road brays, making sure that those who are supposed to be awake, are indeed awake. The braying will last for three minutes before itinerant beast resumes it’s motionless stance in the middle of the road.
"outside!"
At 7:58 AM a hoopoe will land on the sand next to the braai, just as a our two golden dachshunds appear at the front door, tails wagging for breakfast and some attention. They will be allowed the luxury of stepping just inside the door before being told that their presence in the house is forbidden.
The dogs will bark at 8:13 AM as Lindi, our maid appears on our front stoep.
“Dumela Maa, dumela Raa” she will say by way of greeting.
“O tsoga jang, Lindi?” (How are you?) Fleur will enquire.
“Maa?” replies a confused looking Lindi, lightly pinching her nose with two fingers and sniffing.
Sad donkey
The donkey will bray again as it ambles down the road towards nowhere in particular.
After waiting a few seconds to see if the original question will land somewhere, Fleur will rephrase, “O kae? ” (How are you?)
“Mmm.”, the reply barely audible.
Our attention will be quickly diverted back to work at hand by the nature of home schooling. A new concept, a challenging project or the correcting of a mistake.
Lindi will sniff again reminding us of her presence. And should a sniff require translating, I suspect it would be translated as: “What must I do?”
Victoria home schooling
“Come, let me show you the kitchen. Wash your hands. You can start by washing the dishes. Don’t forget to mop the floor. When you have finished mopping the floor you can……” Fleur moves with Lindi into the kitchen repeating the same instructions as the day before.
Fleur will re-emerge from the kitchen at 8:27 AM, a bemused expression on her face.
“I can’t believe she’s been working here for four weeks!”
Share on Facebook
