In the Technicolor brilliance of an African sunset, I watch three giraffes sauntering towards the waterhole. They hover at the edge, glancing around nervously to make sure no lions are lurking behind the acacias.
Reassured, they flop down and lap up the water with their leathery tongues. By now the pool is as crimson as the sky and the animals are reflected in the tinted water. Breathless with excitement, I keep pressing the shutter to capture this stunning image and, as I do so, I long to tell Michael how thrilled I am to be witnessing this scene. But what I really want is to have him here beside me to share this magical moment, and to take the photos himself.
This is my first journey since my husband died and I’ve embarked with mixed feelings. He was my life partner and my photographer. How will it be to travel without him, to walk into hotel rooms alone?
My friends have encouraged me, saying it will do me good to get out of my environment. “It will make you stronger,” they insisted.
Just how far I’ve come from my known environment is already obvious on the second night. There are six of us staying under canvas in the Botswana bush. As I lie alone in my small tent, I’m definitely not feeling any stronger, especially when I hear a lion growling, then the blood-curdling howl of a jackal.
Why on earth did I decide to do this 19-day African tour? But at dawn, when the sun lights up the bush and yellow hornbills and fish eagles fly high overhead, my nocturnal anxieties recede.
However, when we continue on our way, my spirits sink again. Although I’m travelling with five Aussies, they are strangers, and I feel alone and vulnerable. I don’t want to talk about my loss, but my grief becomes a wall that distances as well as protects me from my companions.
I am struggling with my new camera. Whenever I see a dramatic outcrop of granite monoliths, a boatman poling a dugout canoe, giraffes mating or lion cubs scampering in the bushes, I’m not sure how to take the shot. Should I use the wide-angle lens or the telephoto? Should I get as many elephants in the frame as possible or just the baby jumbo? But as I focus the camera, I can hear Michael’s voice in my head telling me to get as close as I can, and to always have something interesting in the foreground.
“The detail is often more powerful than the entire scene,” he is saying. “Make sure the horizon is level.”
Although the camera is a source of frustration, it is also a welcome distraction. While I am focused on photography, I can’t really think about anything else.
As we drive along soft grasslands and arid salt pans, we crane out of the van to gaze at herds of zebra and impala grazing, elephants sluicing themselves with muddy water, and giraffes nibbling the leaves of camel thorn trees.
I hold my breath when we come close enough to lions to hear them crunching a warthog’s bones. During one game drive we witness real drama in the wild: an injured leopard is trying to reach a dead jackal before the lions sprawled under the nearby mopane trees spot it and attack.
Watching wild animals from the van is exciting, but feeding one beats everything. During a visit to a guest farmhouse, I hold out a chunk of raw meat on a stick through a wire mesh fence and two cheetahs come running. I am standing so close I can look straight into the amber flecks in their eyes and count the white whiskers on their beautiful faces. While I am walking back to the farmhouse, a rapier-horned oryx trots towards me; I feel as if I’ve been transported to a mythical realm.
Towards the end of the trip, we are driving through Namibia’s Damaraland, an overpowering landscape of primeval rocks. The sun is beginning to set just as we arrive at the spectacular Fish River Canyon and the ancient escarpments of the gorge are blazing. Shafts of light are pouring from the sky; if the scene were set to music, it would surely be Beethoven’s Ode to Joy.
This is the toughest journey I’ve made, physically and emotionally. In almost three weeks I have crossed deserts and dunes, cruised waterways seething with crocodiles and hippos, and jolted over countless rough roads. There have been some tough and lonely times when I’ve had to hold myself together, not to be overwhelmed by sadness. But standing on the edge of Fish River Canyon, I am filled with awe at the beauty of the world and I feel grateful for the brief privilege of life.
That evening, at the end of a long, scorching day driving among the canyons and stone fortresses of the southernmost tip of Namibia, we pull up outside our bougainvillea-covered lodge. Hot and tired, all I want to do is jump into the swimming pool, but as we head towards the entrance, we pass a heap of stones.
According to the sign, this is Haiseb’s grave. It’s a memorial to the nomadic Nama people who once inhabited this land.
As they wandered from place to place, they would kneel beside their roadside shrines and place stones, twigs or a few drops of honey to propitiate their gods and ensure a safe journey. And when they continued on their way, they were warned never to look back.
This ritual moves me. It reminds me of the Jewish custom of placing a stone on a grave whenever we visit to show we remember the dead, a tradition that links me to the Nama people.
I have covered 5000km on this journey, from Livingstone to Cape Town, and while every step I’ve wanted to share with Michael, the longing as persistent as the ache of a phantom limb, the splendour of Africa has helped me reconnect with the wonder of the world.
So I place a stone on Haiseb’s grave, ask for a safe and successful trip, and resolve not to look back but to continue on my life’s journey.
Source: This article was written by an award-winning Australian author named Diane Armstrong. Some aspects of the article has been amended (title, extra photos, italic words) so as to enhance reader’s understanding of it and also be able to form a mental image of the whole story.
Local Language Terms:
Refer to the words in italic.
At a glance:
African Safari should be on the top list for ’10 Things we must do before we die’
DID YOU KNOW?
Elephants are the most intelligent animals of Africa!