EIGHT DAYS IN BEAUTIFUL BOTSWANA

Written by Jennifer Milano April 2018, traveled in July 2017

When my daughter spun the globe on her first day of sixth grade and her finger landed on Botswana, she told me this would be her country of study for the year. "We'll go there!" I announced excitedly. She wasn't surprised. She knew I was anxiously waiting to find out her country, hoping it would be someplace we could travel. I was especially excited her finger landed on Botswana, because I had always wanted to visit Chobe National Park and the Okavango Delta. The only African safari I had taken was when I was twelve years old, in Kenya with my mother. It had been my first time out of the United States, and was an impactful trip for so many reasons - the animals, the people, the culture, the lifelong pen pal from England whom I met on the trip. Taking my children on a safari was on the bucket list, and I was thrilled to start our month-long African adventure in Botswana. 

It turns out that planning a safari in Africa takes some time. Safari lodges, particularly ones that have "family rooms" accommodating more than two travelers, book up a year or more in advance. Safaris, particularly in Botswana, are also quite expensive. So that we could have our choice of camps and lodges and have time to save up our paychecks, I decided to book our adventure for the summer of 2017, right after my daughter finished seventh grade.  I knew we would see Cape Town in addition to Botswana, and head to east Africa to visit Tanzania. I was hoping to incorporate some volunteering while in Tanzania or South Africa. And once I started reading, I wanted to add on Namibia and visit the San bush people in the Kalahari Desert, the wild coast of Mozambique, the turquoise waters of Lake Malawi, and the majestic gorillas of Rwanda. But time, budget and minimum age requirements for visiting the gorillas (fifteen years old), focused my final trip itinerary on three stops: Botswana, Cape Town and Tanzania. And sort of a fourth - three nights on the Tanzanian island of Zanzibar at the end of our trip to unwind.  

To really experience Botswana, Cape Town and Tanzania, we would need a full month on the road. Traveling from southern Africa to eastern Africa is not not as easy as one would think, and took patience. My husband and kids were concerned - the longest trip we had taken as a family up until this point had been about three weeks. My husband needed to be able to work from the road, which was easy enough with wifi access all over Europe, but in the African bush, not so simple. My kids were excited, but wondered what fun summer events and camps they would miss at home. I will admit, I did not do much to alleviate their concerns other than offer an encouraging word here or there. And rent a mobile satellite dish for my husband. A month seemed short to me - only a third of our summer - and I pressed ahead, excited to give my family this time in a completely different world from the one in which we lived.

We chose a Tanzanian safari company that matched the kids with pen pals, whom they would meet when we arrived. My children spent a year writing letters back and forth (real, handwritten letters, not emails) to their new friends, learning about each other's lives. My daughter helped plan our Botswana itinerary, based on her research for her school project. I spent countless hours reading about African light aircraft luggage limits, anti-malarial medications, and tse-tse fly repellants.

July 2017 finally arrived. With only a carry-on sized duffle and day backpack apiece, we boarded one of the world's longest nonstop flights, from New York to Johannesburg, filled with excitement and anticipation. Fifteen hours later, we landed across the world in Joburg, ready for a nap, shower and meal. We had a perfect night's layover at the African Rock Hotel, sampling Kudu (local game), relaxing in the pretty garden, and sleeping in the quiet rooms. The next morning, we boarded a flight to Kasane, Botswana, the closest airport to Chobe National Park. Our transfer from Kasane to Chobe took just one hour by minivan, and our jaws dropped as we stepped into the open-air lobby of the Ngoma Safari Lodge. Set up on a hillside, the lodge boasts views across a vast plain all the way to Namibia. Elephants, giraffes and zebras visited the lodge often in search of a drink from a nearby watering hole (or swimming pool). It was beautiful. We were in Africa.

Safaris are fun-filled, but are not really restful vacations. As soon as we checked into our room, we met our guide, Johannes, and climbed into an open-air safari jeep for our first drive into Chobe National Park.

This drive would be the first of dozens of safari drives we would take over the next four weeks, and in some ways, it was the most exciting drive. Every antelope and each zebra had us pointing and saying, "look!" as Johannes stopped the jeep to give us time to observe the animals and take photos. By the fourth or fifth game drive, sadly we ceased to even point out the antelopes and zebras, let alone stop to watch them. Even giraffes become old news. But the lions, the elephants, the leopards, the cheetahs - never. We never grew tired of watching the fantastic elephants or the elusive big cats, especially the babies. And there was always something new to look out for - a big cat hunt, a hyena chasing away a big cat from her meal, or a mother elephant protecting her baby.

We loved every minute of our three days in Chobe National Park - the boat ride down the Chobe River that separates Namibia from Botswana, where we observed crocodiles, hippos, buffalo and elephants. The time spent watching the lionesses and their cubs resting and playing in the shade. The knowledge we gathered about Botswana's anti-hunting laws and conservation efforts. The sunsets behind the Baobab trees. And the roaring of the lions at night while we were falling asleep.

But the highlight of our time in Chobe was something we hadn't planned. Johannes, our wonderful safari guide, took us to visit his village, Mabele. Although our itinerary included visits to other African villages throughout the month, Mabele was special. We were the only visitors in the village, and were welcomed with warm smiles. My kids played with Johannes's daughter and niece in the school yard. Johannes's mother-in-law showed us how to grind corn and separate the kernels to prepare them for cooking. We saw how proud Johannes was of the plot of land granted to each Botswana citizen in order to build a house, and how proud his mother-in-law was of the shower the family had recently saved enough money to build in the center of the family compound. Johannes said that next they will save enough money to add a solar panel to the shower's roof so the water will be hot.

I asked Johannes if people wanted more daily comforts - running water in homes instead of using a common pump, reliable electricity and hot water, better cell service. Johannes's answer struck me as completely genuine as he smiled, "no, we are happy." And as I watched the kids playing in the dirt, smiling and laughing, and the adults contentedly tending to the chickens and gardens, I believed his answer to be true. While part of us wanted to hand Johannes's mother-in-law the $200.00 it cost for the solar panel, we did not want to impart our values on her. We did not want our hosts to view us as anyone other than people from the other side of the world who were simply interested in learning about their way of life. As we thanked Johannes's mother-in-law in Tswana "Dumela!", Johannes translated his mother-in-law's reply. "She says she is so happy you came to visit her today." We were filled with gratitude for this experience, in which we could just be with these wonderful people enjoying the afternoon.

We left Chobe on a tiny, six-seater airplane piloted by a crazy Italian. He enthusiastically dipped the plane high, low, left, right to show us elephants and buffalo grazing below, as we vomited into airsick bags. We were relieved to land on a single airstrip in the middle of the Okavango Delta, a maze of rivers and islands filled with the Big Five, the Little Five, and everything in between. Our guide, Chris, picked us up in an open-air safari land rover and drove us on sandy roads to a boat dock. We climbed on board a little river boat, as Chris navigated his way through narrow, winding channels lined with tall grasses on every side. We had to pull our gaiters over our faces so the bugs wouldn't pelt our skin. It was thrilling, but not as thrilling as when we suddenly felt a bump and Chris cut the engine. "Hippo," he said casually. We were confused - did we hit a hippo? "No," Chris said, but there is one right over there, pointing to two large, ominous eyes poking up out of the water. "One, two, three, four five!" my son counted, as we realized there were hippos all around us. We all knew that hippos are one of Africa's most dangerous animals, and watched with a mixture of fear and fascination, before Chris slowly moved the boat away from the hippos and up the channel.

As our boat approached the dock of Little Vumbura tented safari camp, we saw the smiling staff singing a welcome song for us. We ate an amazing lunch in the main area, while Una, the staff member devoted to our two children for their entire stay, showed them how to play a local version of the game my kids know as Mancala. The camp manager explained that, just like at Ngoma, we should never leave our room after dark without an escort. We walked along the sandy paths on the island until we reached our family tent. If you are picturing an oversized pop-up tent, erase it and replace with: a long, wooden walkway up to a wooden door, inside of which there is a massive, canvas-sided two-room tent with hardwood floors, two full bathrooms, and a screened porch overlooking the delta so we could watch elephants, hippos and antelope just yards away.

On the kids' beds were personalized welcome notes, with backpacks, flashlights, journals and water bottles. Trays with fixings to make hot chocolate were waiting for them. It was beautiful. We quickly changed for our first safari, and I headed back to the main area with the kids while my husband stayed back for a few extra minutes. After chatting for about 20 minutes with some staff members, I realized that my husband still hadn't shown up. I walked back along the sandy path, head down, when I heard my husband call out, "Jen, elephant!" I looked up and saw a massive, teenage male elephant in the middle of the path, eating nearby branches. My husband was trapped on our tent's walkway. I walked quickly back to the lodge and relayed the situation to our guide, Chris, who set off to free my husband from his hostage situation.

On that first safari from Little Vumbura, we set off by boat to the dock, then climbed back into the safari land rover. As Chris drove us around, stopping to see elephants, kudu, gazelles, ostriches, giraffes and zebras, he got word on his walkie talkie from another guide. Four male lions had just finished eating an African buffalo and were resting in the shade. We quickly set off in their direction. Unlike in Chobe where we had to stick to the paths, Chris could go off road into the bush, which is where we found the four, massive males lying on their sides, bellies full, covered in flies. Chris stopped our land rover just five feet or so from the closest lion. He reminded us not to stand up or make noise, but just to watch and whisper. The male lion closest to us lifted his head to check us out, but, unmotivated to move any further, laid his maned head back down to sleep. Our guides had explained to us that the animals just see a box when they look at our vehicle. They do not see us as individuals. If we move or talk loudly, then they become interested and think we are possible prey. I've never seen my kids be so still.

As the sun began to set and dusk set in, Chris began to drive back to the dock. We still had not seen a leopard, and we knew there were some in the area as other guests had seen them earlier that day. Exhausted, we stopped actively looking for animals as we relaxed for the ride home. Moments later, Chris suddenly  stopped the safari vehicle. A beautiful female leopard had just walked out in front of the vehicle with such grace she seemed to think she was on a Paris runway. Smaller than we expected, but with the most vibrant coat and strong yet elegant movements, the leopard had us captivated. We watched her amble, roll in the dirt, lie down, rise, and finally disappear into the fading light of the bush. We all turned to each other and smiled, thrilled by the unexpected show.

Sitting around the table at dinner that first night, we chatted in the moonlight with other guests and the staff until we were too tired to keep our eyes open. Chris walked us back to our tent, where we listened to the sounds of snorting hippos outside in the dark as we got changed into pajamas. I heard squeals of delight from both of my children as they climbed into bed. "Hot water bottles!" they explained. Every evening for the remainder of our time in Africa, we climbed into bed after bed that was warmed with a hot water bottle. After four or five nights of my toes warming up in just a few minutes instead of the eternity it seemed to take at home (my husband likes to keep the thermostat at 60 degrees), I made certain that everyone in my family knew what I wanted for Christmas. My very own hot water bottle, and a nightly filling service. 

Our  next two days at Little Vumbura were equally exciting. We rode in a traditional mkoro canoe along the impossibly narrow channels of the delta, observing tiny frogs up close. One evening, the camp staff took us into the boma, a traditional ring with a fire pit that is normally used to ward off wild animals. But on this night, we feasted on traditional Botswana cuisine and watched the cooks, guides, managers and cleaning staff sing and dance with pure joy on their faces. I will admit I felt a little uncomfortable during the performance, wondering if it was all "put on" for the guests. Afterward, I talked with our guide, Chris, about it. Chris, a young, hip guy, assured us that boma evenings are the staff's favorite part of the job because they get to sing and dance just like they would be doing at home if they were with their family and friends. Indeed, several staff had confided in us that the life of a camp employee was tough. Being away from their spouses and children for weeks or months at a time left them feeling homesick. As I listened to some of the mothers talk about their young children at home, I felt incredibly lucky to have a job where I could support my family and eat dinner with them every night.

On our last morning at Little Vumbura, we climbed into a helicopter for a thrilling, beautiful ride over the Okavango Delta. Our destination was a small village, where we were to visit the school, health clinic, government offices and a village home. As our helicopter landed, children from the village ran to meet us. We were disappointed to learn that schools, the clinic, and government offices were all closed due to holidays. We walked around the village, observing the different styles of homes for the government employees and the villagers. But we had been promised interaction with the people of the village, and our tour felt like we were on the outside looking in. We needed something to break the barrier, and for us, it was bubbles. Traveling with a small container of bubbles is a trick I learned from a fellow traveler years ago in Nepal. As soon as I took out the wand and began to blow, the once wary faces of the local children broke into huge grins. They ran and leaped and tried to swat the bubbles, and my kids joined them. We had also brought a soccer ball with us, and an impromptu game began in the school yard. The best way to break the stranger barrier and make friends is to play!

We left Little Vumbura the way we had arrived - with a song of farewell from the dock of the island, by boat to the safari vehicle, and by a tiny plane that was, thankfully, flown by a more sane pilot. Twenty minutes after taking off, we landed on Chief's Island to stay at the camp we had all been waiting for since my daughter described it to us: the luxurious Sanctuary Chief's Camp in the Moremi Game Reserve. Our smiling guide, Martin, retrieved us from the airstrip and drove us to a wooden lodge that seemed to blend into the bush. Irving, the camp manager, and Grace, the chief server, greeted us with a tour of our unbelievable two-bedroom, two-bathroom villa, complete with two plunge pools, fire pit, open bar, and lounge after lounge on deck after deck. Confused, we asked if this was the camp's main reception area? Irving smiled and laughed easily, "no, Ms. Milano, this is all yours - this is the Geoffrey Kent Suite. You have a staff of five here to cater to your every need, at every hour." We were sure there was some mistake. We had booked the "family room", but did not expect such exclusive luxury or undivided attention. I shifted uncomfortably,"but, we don't really deserve this." It was an awkward way of saying that having a staff catering to my every whim in a country where people saved their money for years to afford a shower made me very uncomfortable. "You deserve all of this and more, Ms. Milano," Irving assured me. "Please, call me Jennifer," I stated firmly, somehow trying to make up for the opulent service by insisting on being on a first-name basis with Irving, Grace and Martin.

The next two days were the nicest I believe I have ever spent at a hotel, despite my feelings of discomfort with the luxurious attention we received. Martin was the warmest, friendliest guide and my children loved him. He found us wild dogs on the hunt one morning at dawn, the only rhino we saw in Africa, and a leopard seconds after she had killed the gazelle at her feet. We watched the leopard eat for an hour, which was, well, revolting. But incredible. We sat around the fire pit at night, chatting with Grace, who was pleased to learn we had visited Mabele, her home village! She told us about her four girls at home who were "naughty," and tied her beautiful scarf around my head, Botswana-style. And Irving, originally from Zimbabwe, taught us all about the politics of his home country, and proudly showed us photos of his wife and children in Botswana. One afternoon, my husband, who likes to brag he can handle the hottest of peppers, challenged Irving and Grace to a pepper-eating contest. My kids and I took the greatest pleasure in watching Irving and Grace smoke (pun intended) my husband. 

I know it is their job to make us feel welcome and happy, but I do feel like in that short time, Irving, Martin and Grace became our friends. It turns out that many of their guests, like Saudi princes, are used to devoted service, so maybe they enjoyed being with more down to earth people like us? At least, that is what I tell myself to alleviate some of the guilt I still carry from living in such luxury in the middle of Africa, even if only for two nights.

Antimalarial medication gave my son a stomachache on our last morning in Botswana. Grace and Irving had paid attention to every detail during our short stay, and knew my son's favorite foods. While we were out on our last safari drive, the cook prepared my son's favorite meal - pasta with pesto, and some plain pasta in case his stomach could not handle the pesto. The cook also prepared an amazing meat sauce that I can still taste nearly a year later. We felt truly sad to say goodbye to our new friends, as we left for the airstrip to depart for Cape Town, South Africa. 

While we went on to have a fabulous time in Cape Town, Tanzania and Zanzibar, Botswana is the place that has stayed in my heart. I know that it is because of the people. Wherever I travel, the places that stay with me for decades are always because of the people. And when Christmas morning came that year, a hot water bottle was waiting under the tree just for me, reminding me a little bit each night of my evenings in Africa. Minus the lion roars and hippo snorts.