The Venice of Africa.....

The Venice of Africa…
In the Okavango Delta, generally far from anything you would really consider civilization, and yet not quite out in the bush, lies a gorgeous area I can only describe as pristine (a description that is cliché, yes, but appropriate and made more accurate by the fact that I could drink directly out of it, and did so, and was not sick at all, in contrast to when I subsequently drank water from the tap that had been through the Peace Corps provided filter and puked my guts out. The PC medical officer’s response to this quandary, brought to her awareness because I additionally puked up my anti malarial med and was generally in a state of feeling extremely sorry for myself and was looking for comfort, was to not go trying to drink water on an empty stomach. Drink tea first, eat something, give your stomach a chance to warm up. Shit. Seriously!!? I now boil, then filter, then UV light anything I attempt to drink. Lesson learned.) with the type of clear water I’ve only seen in Lake Superior on a early spring day, before the warming waters cause everything to grow crazy green algae.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. After Simon invited me on this adventure and we picked up the two people from the Polers, we arrived at a small clearing/camp that appeared to have a sort of boat landing. The reeds and swampy sea grass appeared to cover all available water, and I couldn’t figure out where a boat could come from, unless it was one of those fan powered ones you see in the deltas and bayous of the southern United States or in the rivers of the Amazon. In my mind and I daresay extensive experience with water and lakes (hey I’m from the land of 10,000) there was no way a standard boat motor could get through the thick foliage I was witnessing.
Despite the thickness of the grasses, the gorgeous breeze betrayed the apparent stillness and kept the air from carrying the acrid smell of decay common in swampy or still bodies of water. I resigned myself to the confusion that has become commonplace to me here, when I think that I know how something is going to work or should work and it turns out completely differently. The learning curve is steep.
We waited on the shore of the delta with all our gear and could hear the cows and hippos mooing from within the deep grasses of the delta. In the distance the mechanical whine of a boat motor could be heard coming towards us. Suddenly Ronnie pulls up in his big aluminum boat weaving through the previously unseen paths in the marshy weeds. It was indeed an outboard motor propelling the boat forward. Hmmm.We load the boat and are off on our journey.
We pass through occasional open flowing water around and across the delta, but mostly we travel through canals of papyrus and reeds that I’m told were initially cleared by hippos and then helped along by Ronnie and his workers, clearing the extra reeds and sea grasses off the top so the boat could get through. The papyrus is very tall and densely settled in the water, producing a bit of a canal effect as we slowly motored through. The colors in the papyrus are stunning, the tops ranging from a fresh green to an autumn orange and red and exploding in a firework of blossom on the top. As I look out into the water on the side of the boat I could see down 20 or thirty feet to the sandy bottom where the hippos had cleared the path for themselves. The water ranges from an amazing green tea shade to nearly perfectly clear, with the type of clarity I haven’t seen since I was a child at the cabin in Minnesota. I quickly realize I’m in a cathedral of nature, the Venice of Africa, and suddenly feel giddy with excitement for the rest of the journey.
We motor through this wonderland for about an hour, stopping along the way to spy on a herd of hippos sunning themselves in an out of the way lagoon and passing various birds and a crocodile that dives under the water as we pass. We get to a very swampy area cleared by the hippos onto land, the soil black with nutrient rich rotting vegetation and hippo dung. We unload and boat and Ronny and one of his employees walk off and return with a huge truck with tires the height of me and chairs on the top nearly 15 feet off the ground. We pack all of our stuff onto this monster and drive jarringly into the bush, where although there are the tire tracks of the path we are following, it’s hard to believe humans have ever been through here.
We lumber along, the machine belching diesel into the air and the motor grinding away loud enough to alert the animals of our presence, but not enough to frighten them away. We come upon our first elephants, not more than 100 meters away, looking at us quickly, their curiosity quickly fading into disinterest. We continue on and discover a herd of giraffes, at which point my camera battery dies, and Ronny kindly lends me his. We see several species of deer/antelope type animals as well as zebras, wildebeests, and warthogs. It starts to look like something out of “the Lion King,” minus the lions (next time). Ronny takes us to a beautiful spot where we are able to swim in the delta where the clear, clean water is drinkable, and out of which Simon pulls several fish for dinner. We continue on and as we reach the edge of another area of water we turn back, and after traveling not more than 1 kilometer, there is an extra large lurch and a crash and the wheel of the lumbering giant falls clear off with a thud. We spend some time in the bush and are later rescued and I am able to see the delta at dusk, the sunset providing even more spectacular views of this cathedral of nature we are traveling through. It seems nature is becoming my new art museum…
I think I am beginning to realize one of the reasons I am here, to relearn and respect the power of nature and its healing properties. I have often considered myself a city girl, and although I continue to love and appreciate yearn for the fast pace, and flashy lights whist eschewing the countryside as boring, I often manage to find myself living in the presence of some of natures most awe inspiring vistas, first along the shore of Lake Superior and now this. I’ve found that it’s difficult to get as wrapped up in your problems as you can in the city when you’re in nature. I’ve also grown to appreciate camping out as somewhat of an upgrade from the way I live on a daily basis. I’ve come to understand nature and the way you can come back to it, the quiet calm and serenity it offers.
Most importantly, I am finally coming to relate to nature in ways I couldn’t relate to some of the people in my life who have loved it. In some ways transcending this block that I now realize was always put up by me, I am coming to feel closer and at least understand those people from my past and my life more.