Unearthly

Like a scene from a Mad Max film, eight unearthly looking, ethereal children appear out of the bush from nowhere, the only sign of life we have seen for miles.
Barefoot and threadbare, the Bushman children carry hefty corn-meal bags on their heads and a dead chicken in each hand.

I wonder am I hallucinating. What are they doing out here alone, in the middle of the bush? Where are they going or coming from?
Maybe the anti-malaria tablets side effects are kicking in.
The list mentioned behavioural changes, strange or vivid dreams, mania, delusions, tension, anger and organic psychosis.
I consider stopping taking the tablets and risk malaria.
As we approach the children begin to chant that now familiar African tableau,”sweets, sweets, sweets, sweets!”
“Africa, its not for sissies hey?”, our driver and tour operator gestures towards them from our overland 4x4 truck.
“Don't worry, put your cameras away, they are not one of the Big Five,” he sniggers.
I sense my fellow vagabonds on this safari tour of Botswana find him a little impolitic once again.
The Big Five. The most dangerous animals you van hunt in Africa.
I purchased the obligatory holiday table cloth listing them for mum.
The elephant, rhino, buffalo, hippo and leopard all present and ready for kitchen duty.
I almost forgot to mention the ant, the tortoise, the weaver bird, beetle and shrew.
They are of course the little five.
I think about the children and what they must make of us driving through their neighbourhood.
They live in a human zoo. So do we all I suppose once someone is watching you from a safe distance without contact.
It saddens me watching flies take up residence under their eyes and on their lips.
“Parallel universe,” says a compassionate Dutch guy next to me seeing me upset.
“They will benefit from us tourists someday in their life dude.”
We cruise past them looking down at them from our privileged front row spectator seats.
Cameras are firing on all cylinders the others catch the moment with the aspiration of accomplishing copious amounts of likes on social media sites.
I just wave and smile at the children. They smile and wave back jumping and playing with each other their journey broken up for now at least.
All part of the African experience.
I can feel my arm getting burnt in the hot sun and reach for my factor 50 or “bulletproof,” as its known over here.
Africa is certainly not for sissies.