Open Writing

Wriggling uncomfortably, she slid her hand under the groundsheet and found the sharp stone digging into her haunches. “At last. Thank goodness that’s gone,” she murmured, “I would never have been able to stand a two hour watch with that thing sticking into me.”

Leaning back against the mottled trunk of the tree, she gazed dreamily into the night sky, marvelling at the myriad stars; the spiralling drift of the Milky Way, and the slightly canted points of the Southern Cross indicating the southern latitudes.

The watch fire was burning low, time to put on more wood. But she must be careful not to mistakenly add Tambuti. Even the smoke of that tree was poisonous, and eating the leaves, berries or any part of the tree could be fatal.

She was just starting to wake up, although it had given her a jolt when the hand on her shoulder had shaken her awake from the first deep sleep of the night. But she was very glad that the leader had insisted they all stand watch, and although in this private game camp there was very little need to worry about human dangers, one could never account for rogue animals, and she was not sure if there were any predators here. For all she knew, there might be the smaller ones, although she did not think there were any lions or leopards. So, best to keep the fire burning brightly, it was comforting gazing into the flames and imagining castles in the abstract shapes, and the warmth was very welcome as the night chill began to rise from the ground.

Not being an ‘out-doorsy’ type, this was the first time she had gone camping and to the surprise of everyone they found they were not going to sleep under canvas, just sleeping bags on groundsheets. This was so they would be able to enjoy a “total experience” of “communing with nature” as the leader was so fond of saying, almost as if it was his own newly discovered mantra.

Checking the time, she realised that the previous watch had woken her fifteen minutes early – what cheats! – but it didn’t really matter, she loved sitting here alone under the stars actually doing the “communing with nature” bit and enjoying the night sounds, the solitude and the strangeness. Having watched the stars wheeling across the sky, she realised time was passing, and to the east, the sky was already lightening.

Rising, she went to shake the shoulder of the next man on the watch-list and smiled to hear his irritated grumblings at being woken, knowing that he had missed the best, and at this early hour he would never be party to the secrets of the night she had enjoyed so much.

Then, glancing idly towards the trees and low thorn bush, she saw them. Stepping silently as shadows, there they were - the only really wild animals they had seen since they arrived. Three beautiful mottled giraffes, their lovely tan, brown and cream markings distinct in the pearly early morning light, horn buds sweetly tipped with soft tufts of fur, hugely long eyelashes dusted with the golden pollen of dawn, inquisitive liquid brown eyes intent on taking in every detail of the scene: what a picture out of Eden!

The previous evening had been fun. They had arrived at about 8pm after a fast and rather scary drive up the motorway from peak-hour Johannesburg, weaving through the densely packed traffic until they had left Pretoria behind, and later entered Warmbaths, then Nylstroom, famous for the extraordinary flood plains which host thousands of migrant birds from Europe in the southern spring, who breed here, rear their broods and fly back north.

Leaving Nylstroom, it was only a few miles further before they entered the private game reserve, found their camping site and settled in. As many of the group were obviously first-timers, and quite unsuited to any sort of outdoor living, the leader had at least come prepared for this first evening, and soon produced a wonderful hearty stew, ready-cooked in a very large pot, with potatoes and thickly sliced ‘doorsteps’ of fragrant home-made bread, and large dollops of peach jam. Real soul food, no wonder everyone fell asleep almost as soon as they had stacked their dirty plates, and no wonder she had woken with such a jolt when she was shaken!

But this second day and the one which followed were absolute disasters. The leader had misjudged the situation and made no provision for fresh water supplies, and as the area was in the throes of a five-year drought, the dam was at an all time low, and the spruits and springs had ceased to flow. After a hearty egg, sausage ‘n bacon breakfast on the first morning, the leader proposed a walk, and carefully doled out cheese slices, a couple of bread rolls, a tomato and an apple.

By the time the group had reached the stagnant pool the leader had fondly imagined would be the ideal place for a swim and a delicious lunch, the cheese slices where melting and greasy, the tomatoes squashed in their plastic bags, the rolls stale, and the apple definitely past its sell-by date. Nobody wanted to climb down the precipitous cliff to get to the stagnant water, and it was a disconsolate group that trailed moodily back to the camp site to face a mountain of unwashed dishes, nothing prepared for supper, and no water to drink.

By the next day, mutiny was in the air. A quick visit to the game ranger’s house proved enlightening. Oscillating sprays kept his lawns fresh and green, the flower borders bloomed in neon splendour, an outdoor shower refreshed the children after their game of lawn cricket – and yet, the leader had sworn that there was no water available for miles, that they had to make do with what they had, and that they must conserve and husband every drop until they returned to Johannesburg. The revelation of this comfort only a few miles down the road and the duplicity of the leader, immediately set the group against him, and when he took a quick vote as to whether they should stay on a further day, or return to Johannesburg forthwith, the unanimous decision was “Go back!”

The return journey was accomplished in furious silence, not a word being spoken, anger and mutiny boiled in the air, together with complete lack of confidence in the leader.

But … more than thirty years later, despite the obvious failings of the expedition, the lack of professional preparation and the disappointment of the entire group who felt so deprived of what they had expected and paid for, it was a wondrous night – the time spent watching the stars, the smell of the wood smoke, the silence of the bush and the sight of the beautiful giraffe in the early dawn light will remain with me for ever … priceless, the experience far outweighing the brief discomfort and annoyance, and something I will never forget.