Catching up

Helo to all:
We're back in "Civilization" after our time in the bush. No tv. no email, no phone, no nuttin' just great times and wonderful experiences. I'll send more as time allows.
j
Leaving Mkuze Falls we began our four day road trip to Maun, Botswana where we were to meet our Servas hosts Joe and Cathy Wanzala. It was pretty much a straight run.
We were advised not to stop at the beginning of the trip since it was an area of car-jackings. Lots of various scams to tempt travelers. i.e. staged accidents with seemingly injured people along side the road. You stop, and bingo, you're in trouble. We had planned to stop at a city named Witbank, but it turned out to be nothing more than a polluted coal area, and we quickly got back in our car and wound up stopping at Bronkhorstsprait. We didn't see any hotel/motels, nor signs for guest houses, so I pulled into a pub (it served Guiness, so I knew it was a classy place.) Everybody spoke Afrikans, but one person behind the bar asked me what I wanted and I said that I was looking for a place to stay for the night. One woman said that she lived next door to a Guest House and she was going there, so we just followed her. We'd never have found it on our own.
We went to Sun City because we were told it was quite nice. Well it turned out to be nothing more than a cheesy imitation of Vegas, so we kept on going from there, but we did fin a jewel in Pilanesburg National Park. It is a self-drive game reserve, and it was very cool to drive at our own pace, stop when we wanted to stop, and generally be totally in charge of our lives. They've set up "hides" or blinds as we might call them, where you can just sit at a water hole and watch animals as they come to drink. Two rhinos came by and generally entertained us as they drank then wallowed, and finally played in the water for a half an hour.
As we walked into the hide through a protected walkway, we were accosted by an elephant who let us know that we weren't welcome. She charged right up to the fence and there we were eyeball to eyeball. Luckily they have an electric fence around the outside of the walkway, and the animals have obviously been "educated" and so didn't tear down the fence. I didn't know what I'd do if she stuck her trunk over to whap me on the head, or pick me up.
We stayed in the park in a little "chalet" their word for a detached room. A bungalow is a more descriptive word in our culture.

As we were driving out of the park, we turned a curve in the narrow road, and two elephants came swaggering down the road toward us, with their trunks swinging from side to side like two hip-hop generation teen males sauntering down a hallway with chains hanging from their necks swinging freely. We had been on enough game drives at this point, so we knew that the procedure is to slowly back up giving them the room they demand. Don't try to go around them, just keep giving ground until they have had enough and decide to go into the bush beside the road. Otherwise Chico will not only resemble a car upon which an elephant has sat, it might actually be one. The only problem was that there was a car behind us which didn't seem terribly concerned about the situation since it had our car between them and any problems. I almost bumped into them a couple of times trying to get distance between ourselves and the portly pachyderms. The driver was truly entranced with the situation as opposed to watching where I was in relation to him vis a vis the elephants. Eventually, he gave ground, and still later the elephants turned aside and we went by. Carol filmed while I backed up. It was a very cool scene even though it caused a mild concern.
Hitting the highway we followed a route prescribed by two South Africans we met at Mkuze. Harry said that the border crossing at this given point would be the easiest. It was true when we got to the border, there was only one car coming from either direction, hence the crossing was accomplished easily.
However, there's always a however, it seems, what he didn't tell us was that getting to the border was the real challenge. The pavement ended 65 miles from the border and for the next two hours we bumped, ground, and bounced our way down the road. There is such a fine line between speed and safety, and it's a line that I tend to cross on the side of speed, as my daughter will attest. I try not to stray too far over the line, but it's one that I know I do cross.
At points we could make 60 mph, then suddenly the road would deteriorate to massive potholes. My poor little VW Chico felt very abused as I forced it without warning into a hole the size of a bathtub. Bang! The car would bottom out. "Ouch," Chico would say. We'd have that for a few miles, then back to speed again, only to be rudely brought back to reality by a minefield of loose rocks the size of softballs to basketballs.

Eventually we did make it through and the border came upon us 14 miles closer than the signposts indicated. It was a welcome sight to see the Botswanan flag. Crossing the border on Saturday we headed south for an hour to Gaborone, the capital. However, it was Saturday, and everything closed at noon. You guessed it, it was 1:00 in the afternoon. No banks to change money, no tourist bureau for information, nada!

So we decided to start north to Joe and Cathy's. It was a ten-hour drive and so getting a couple of hours under our belts wasn't a total loss. But I needed Botswanan pulas, and all the banks were closed. I walked across the street to a petroport (gas station) to ask a man exactly where we were on the Lonely Planet guidebook map, and he asked what we wanted to do. I told him that what I really wanted to do was to change money. He asked what kind of money I wanted to change, and when I told him US dollars, he asked me how much. I told him $300, and he proceeded to whip out a wad, and I mean a wad of 100 pula notes ($20 U.S. each) and we made the deal right there on the street. Don't tell me I'm not blessed when I travel!

Chico was very happy because Botswanan roads are EXCELLENT. Far better than we might have expected. Same rules apply. Speed limit is 75, everybody goes 85 and upwards. Driving across the interior of Botswana was a real experience. We stayed the night in Mahalupye and the book said that eating at Kaytee's was the treat of the town. There's a big sign over the bar which says: "This is not a bar, but a licensed restaurant. Please treat it as such." However, since we were the only ones eating in the place at 7:00 p.m. and everybody else was drinking, the meaning was somewhat lost. The food was good, if not spectacular, and we left quite satisfied. We stopped for gas every time we saw a petroport since you never know in the bush what will be ahead, and we arrived at Joe and Cathy's about 4:00 in the afternoon.

They came to meet us at a local hotel after we called them, and were immediately greeted with two giant bear hugs as if we were long lost friends. They are an amazing couple. The Servas organization we belong to is one that promotes international peace and understanding. We've had people from all over the world stay with us, and we have enjoyed the hospitality of people in many of the places in which we've traveled.
Joe is from Uganda and Cathy is from Kenya. He is an accountant and she has an outlet for travel supplies and clothing. They raised five children in their odyssey from Uganda to get away from Idi Amin, and went from Uganda to Kenya to Malawi and have finally settled in Botswana. Their five children exemplify their ethic of hard work and educational success.
Winnie got her Ph.D from Michigan State and works in public health for the state of California and lives in Sacramento. We'd hooked up with here before leaving to bring some things to Cathy. Joe Jr. is a paralegal in San Francisco. They sent one to be educated in Switzerland, and there she met an Irishman and they live near Leeds, in England. Both she and her husband are university professors. Another daughter is in the "Hospitality" industry, not quite sure what aspect, but she arranges tours and such and lives in London. The only one still in Africa lives in Johannesburg and works for some big international fertilizer company out of Florence, Alabama. She flies all over Africa advising governments and local officials on how to improve agricultural production.

Another incredible coincidence is that Cathy is from the same tribe as Barak Obama's family, and in fact her family knew Barak's father and she knows his half brother. Small world it is indeed.
They are an amazing family and as warm-hearted people as you could ever hope to meet. We spent two nights with them and left Chico with them when we flew out this morning for our ten day camp-to-camp-to-camp journey. Cathy was crushed when we told her that on our return on the 18th we'd only be able to stay one more night.
So now we're in the Okavango Delta. This is what I came for and it has not disappointed. A beautiful low-level flight into the heart of the delta must be explained in a different e-mail or I'll overstay my welcome with your attention span.
So, until that time, we're living large as usual,
Love to most of you,
Jim and Carol