So soft, so small, so adorable!! And yet, so sharp teeth…
Sorry for the radiosilence guys, I’ve been trying to adapt to being back in Europe. Where’s my 50 degrees? Where is my beautiful African Savannah?
Namibia ❤
Oh well, one can’t be a volunteer forever. I love going through some of the videoes I took when I was at Harnas Wildlife Foundation; this is one of my favorites! I hope you love this baby cheetah as much as me:)
It’s time. One last hug. One last “We’ll stay in cantact”. One last whispered “I’ll miss you.”. One last look. Goodbye two months of volunteerwork. Two months of challenges. Of new and good friends. Of animals you’ll never forget.
Missy-Jo, I’ll miss your purr in the mornings.
You’ve been saying goodbye for a week. It’s easier to ease into it. You’ve walked around taking pictures, spent time outside of work with the animals – and now the day is here, the day to leave. In one way, you can’t stop smiling, because everyone knows that after a long trip – coming home is always nice. However, in another way, your heart is breaking. You’re massaging the back of your right wrist; the tiny scars from a baboonattack that now seems so long ago. That was such a long day. You learned so much from it.
Remember my struggle with them?
The Baboon Bullies
Always be ready for a fight – one of the things I learned
If you had a bad day
And that it gets better.
The reality of volunteering
“Do you think you’ll ever come back?” Your roomie looks over at you from behind the white bus that’s going to take you away. You shake your head “probably not. This has been an amazing experience, and I’ve learned enough to write an entire book, but… This isn’t a come-back-to-place for me. It’s more of a once in a lifetime thing. One you in the end will only remember the good memories from.”
This crazy group of friends I will always remember.
The coordinator hands out your certificates.
Notice the word “Survival” anyone?
People hug again (there can never be enough hugs). The group leaving enters the bus. All of your heads are turned. You stare at what you leave behind until you can’t. Some are crying. You reach out and take your roomie’s hand. Going home now would have been ten times worse if she wasn’t leaving at the same time.
At the airport you all sit down and get milkshakes.
They still exist! Good heavens, you’ll have to have another one. Chocolate of course. You wander around afterwards, Windhoek airport isn’t big. “See ya when I see ya,” you say to your Danish friend, and he waves. “It was nice meeting you,” the german couple smile and nod, “you too.” And then there’s you and your roomie, your best friend, left. You’re on the same flight to Johannesburg.
Take off. Holding on tight. She’s leaving someone special behind. She cries silently. Both are leaving a great time. A time where you matured. Fought baboons. Walked cheethas. Cared for an injured caracal. Cleaned waterholes and dug graves in 50 degrees. Friends you don’t know if you’ll see again. You watch the straight roads. The white cars becoming smaller and smaller.
In Johannesburg you buy Amarula, promising to think of each other when drinking it.
Promising to tell your stories if drinking with others. It’s emotional, but neither says anything. The last goodbye is right around the corner. At gate A00. You’re going to Norway. Your flight leaves first, so she has acompanied you to your gate. You watch her like you watched your camp when she walks away. Not turning back. A short woman. 27. Poledancer and jewelery-maker. Direct and honest. Funnier than most. The French dialect in every word she says. You will see each other again. Life won’t get in the way. Not this time.
Up, up, above the clouds.
Africa under you. Africa behind you. Africa coming home with you. You fold your hands in your lap. Close your eyes and lean your head against the cold window. Your heart beats faster and your breath threathens to choke you. Pictures run through your head.
“Thanks for everything. Dankie,” you whisper.
Welcome to Bushmanland.
Forget showering. Forget Wifi. Forget cell-signal. Forget the rest of the world. It’s you and the bushmen now. You and the wild.
“Bushmanland”, says the sign. There are no fences here. One cannot own land. Animals roam freely. The people that live here survive on hunting and gathering.
For five days I had the privilege of staying with the San people – bushmen as they say themselves. They have lived the same way for thousands of years and have the most similar genetics to Everyone. No matter who comes here can see something of themselves in their faces.
We were nine people on the expedition. Five volunteers from Harnas Wildlife Foundation (myself and four more), one traveler from England (a british guy named Jamie who couldn’t have stopped telling puns if his life depended on it) and the three people that organized the trip. It’s funny how quickly people get to know each other around a bonfire. Hank and Renate – two of the organizers – got married the second of October, the same day as I arrived in Namibia. We bonded instantly. Hank is a several time world champion in archery, was a profesional MMA fighter, but listens to Cascada and keeps referencing chick-flicks. Renate is from Holland, loves dogs, and is currently following her dreams here. Aleksandra is the last, but main organizer. She’s Norwegian, but has lived in Namibia for six years. She gave up being a supermodel to find herself, and along the way she found her passion too. I could have listened to her stories around the bonfire for forever. She speaks their language. She knows them.
It was certainly a curious group that met the San this Monday. They welcomed us with open arms though – literally.
Bushmen! And butts… 😛
I was a bit nervous before we met them. It didn’t help that Hank joked that if one of the bushmen shot an arrow into my ass I shouldn’t freak out, that’s one of the ways they propose. I just had to remember not to pick the arrow up, because that would mean I accepted it.
However, from when we met the San until we said goodbye, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’ve never met such people before. They are incredibly short, weigh around 30-40 kg and laugh with, not just their whole faces, but their whole selves.
Big smiles.
In the short time we visited them, they took us in as their own. They wanted to teach us as much as possible. They took us tracking, gathering, bird-trapping, and showed us how to make rope from a plant called mother in law tongue. In addition they let us use their bows and spears. I would not have made a great Robin Hood it seems.
Snare.
Norwegian foot vs Africa. Africa won.
Bushmen are playful. When I was told we were going to play games with them I first sighed. More football, really? I got enough of that at High School and had no need to play against people that run marathons every week (no joke, they actually do.)
No matter where in the world. Funny videos bring people together.
However, their games are quite different from football. They sing. They dance. It involves a lot of rhythm. Clapping. Buttshaking. Fun. I took one of my favorite pictures of this whole trip when playing with them. We taught them a song we do around the bonfire at Harnas “This is the repeat after me song”. Take a guess at how the game goes.
There is something special about being in the untouched wild. One night we heard hyenas in the bushes. Every night we had a sky with a billion stars.
Bonfires. Magic. N a m i b i a ❤
Namibia is one of the few countries where you can still find large groups of elephants. It was HUGE, seeing them.
This happened!!!!!
Elephant footprints in the sand, and my tiny foot in comparison.
All in all, it was a great trip. However it was also great returning to Harnas. I have had days where I feel like I just don’t belong, but when we came back – we definitely belonged. My roomie ran to meet me, our friends that didn’t join the trip greeted us loudly at dinner and the kitchen lady reached over the counter to take our hands. We could take a shower again after five days. We had beds to go to. It almost felt like… Coming home.
PS. Remember that comments make me happy 🙂
Green lights ahead 