blundering-around-in-Africa

more photos uploaded

jane-of-the-jungle — Thu, 23 Nov 2006 20:30:00 GMT

Just a quick note to say that I've uploaded some photos from the time kate and i spent with joe and jane in south luangwa in october. All the best,

Marcus (bethedifference@bigplanet.com)

Gallery: Photos from Marcus

jane-of-the-jungle — Thu, 23 Nov 2006 08:28:00 GMT

from the time with joe and jane in zambia

Home soon

jane-of-the-jungle — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 02:05:00 GMT

Thank you to all the wonderful people who have sent money. We have now given Mr. Zulu’s volunteers a bicycle each - sturdy black uprights which will cope with the potholes and we are buying two bales of second hand clothes for them to distribute. Everyone is very excited that people from all over the globe are interested in the work they are doing. This week we have given away the first hundred mozzie nets - just in time for the rains. It is odd that while a handful of people are killed each year by marauding elephants the tiny mosquito, so happily breeding in the waterways of Luangwa, cause a much higher mortality. The mosquito nets are not only protecting against malaria but a wide variety of immunisable diseases because the clinic numbers were doubled as everyone was keen to get a free net . The bush clinics are great fun and are used by the women as a social occasion. The babies all arrive decked in their Sunday best which often involves frilly nylon dresses and thick woollen hats and bootees while it is 40 degrees in the shade and I am melting sitting under the biggest mango tree in the village. Talking of mangoes - the villages are now being visited by herds of elephants who will do anything to get at the ripe mangoes. When visiting Africa’s beautiful game parks it is easy to forget the price local people pay. Here people traditionally fish and hunt - now their hunting is severely restricted - left for the high-paying, wannabee macho, foreigners who somehow feel it is brave and sporting to shoot these beautiful creatures. Yesterday I gave a lift to two fishermen who had spent the night fishing in the river and were frightened of the elephants on the way home. When asked, they said that, while they were terrified of elephants, crocodiles were no problem at all! I had a different story because the previous week I had had to resuscitate a fisherman rescued from the jaws of a croc by his brother. A gory sight! This remarkable man had already survived a previous croc attack AND a lion attack! Just to prove he is as immortal as he thinks he is he has survived but sadly lost both arms. One of the joys of being here is learning about the birds and animals. Hippos have sex under water, the only southern hemisphere land mammal to do so, apart from a few drunken Aussies. Like the Aussies, they too use a lot of sunblock, a red excretion on their skin. Hyena females have perfected women’s liberation, having such high testosterone levels that they laud it over the males and even have matching pseudo penises. Despite this they are completely unlovable. The elephant is pregnant for 22 months and gives birth to a 120 kg baby. The rains have come to the valley and everything is greening. The weather is cooling. Last week on a game drive we thought the first rains had come but then realised we were being pooed on by sixty vultures in a tree and knowing they had just been crawling inside a hippo carcass it was not quite as refreshing as we thought. Our time here will soon be coming to a close and we are really looking forward to coming home. Sadly, there will be no ebullient, wagging, welcome from our dog Penny as she died last week. We shall always be grateful to Jim and Jane, who loved her as much as we did and supported Binky as he said goodbye on our behalf. I often reflect on the pathways of evolution, thinking it would be wonderful to have a trunk like an elephant which can pick a daisy or carry a landcruiser under its arm, or a neck like a giraffe to see over the crowds. It is with great relief, however, unlike the baboons, women don’t have bottoms which go bright red when they are feeling sexy, nor men unlike the vervet monkey have bright blue testicles. I am truly grateful that Joe of the Jungle has shared these wonderful experiences with me and is happy to discard his loincloth, leave his assegai in the bush and get back on his tractor.

Whooping Hyenas and drugless clinics

jane-of-the-jungle — Fri, 20 Oct 2006 22:14:00 GMT

It is building up to the first rains, meltingly hot and humid, the landscape parched dry, the rivers and lagoons shrinking to shimmering pools in the sandy expanse of the wide riverbed. The hippos, crocs and water birds - ibis, storks, geese and jacanas - become more concentrated. Today I saw a wattled plover guarding its nest in the sand, just half a metre away from a croc, open-jawed to lose heat, a dentist’s nightmare A bark from outside the house, at first I thought it was dogs, but it is the alarm call of the gentle spotted bush buck. I am enjoying the birdlife - over 700 species in the park. It is such a treat to see flocks of crested cranes and the glorious carmine bee-eaters, like miniature crimson kites, hundreds darting and swooping round their nests in the riverbank Sadly Bad Ellie is no more. Katie says his heaven will be a supermarket carpark where he can break windows, and eat shopping to his heart’s content. His coup de grace was to break into a car with a rooftop tent, knocking down the pole supporting the cantilevered part, so the terrified occupants were literally bouncing on his back. Having been greatly entertained by his antics, we were less than thrilled when he left the campsite, visiting our little home and ours became the 10th car window ruptured by tusks - a loud crack just ouside the bedroom window. I was quite relieved that there was no human damage. An old hunter told me he had found “nothing thicker than a chicken burger” after a trampling. So big and powerful, and yet usually amazingly gentle. The trunk with over 100,000 muscles can turn over a car, but also daintily pick up individual curled orange pods of the winter thorn tree. If you are under some illusion that I bravely face wild beasties, this needs correction. Imagine Jane of the Jungle, Joe away, returing to little house, big spot light roaming, gingerly creeps round winter thorn, heart pounding, dashes for door unlocked for quick access and collapses in heap - and that was just the daytime practice. Tempers are fraying here in the heat, the chef resigned and Adie the owner was able to unload his pent up emotions on an idiotic Japanese tourist who, misunderstanding all warnings, stalked an elephant to within 5 meters, retreated briefly when it mock charged and then pursued it again. Fortunately it was Gilbert, the benign old fellow who is often around the camp and wasn’t looking for trouble. Victoria Falls is less spectacular in the dry, but you can walk illegally up to the edge and then have someone hold your feet as you lean over. Kate fortunately, like Binky and Al doing the highest bungie jump in te world, told mum afterwards. The clinic has been busy. The locals call any fever malaria but I think there has been a lot of flu bringing with it chest infections and pneumonia. Sometimes I think I am not told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. That lies somewhere that I am slowly learning to understand. This week very few drugs and no vaccines. "Yes, the order did go in”. The man from headquarters is coming today and he is bringing the drugs. But the man from headquarters came yesterday and left them behind. Now he has arrived and knows nothing of any drugs. But Paul will save the day and hitch to headquarters. Oh dear he left the eskie behind; I will send it on TB car. TB car went shopping and missed Paul. Enter stage right, man from headquarters drunk as a skunk, "what is the problem?”. Meanwhile lots of patients, nurses working very hard, but No drugs. And I am bewildered and confused wondering exactly where the truth lies. An African version of a drug free clinic. Treating HIV requires 95% compliance, a logistical nightmare. Testing is voluntary and is aften avoided, the social consequences of being the first partner to be diagnosed with HIV being enormous. My matronly advice about no condoms, no sex, goes down like a lead balloon and I remind myself as young docs how we guffawed at a middle age paediatrician who said in our clinical meeting that Sex was overrated. At least I know what African men would think of that. Meanwhile I enjoy the game drives in the park, getting close to roaring lions. I enjoy lying in bed listening to the night sounds, the whoop whoop of spotted hyenas, the crunching as the hippoes eat grass and the gentle footfalls of the elephants outside the window; I enjoy meeting the lodge owners some of whom grew up in the park and have a wealth of tales to tell (one showed us the lion he had in the back of his truck, dead now she was old and toothless and had been stalking tourists in his camp) and the wide variety of people who come through Flatdogs, from a delightful concert pianist, to Europeans in trendy leopard skin safari gear and khakied South African hunters in their camouflage flak jackets describing their latest kills and yearning “to be able to shoot rhino like we used to.” I especially enjoy laughing with the mothers at my attempts at speaking Chinyanja and with the African staff at Flatdogs who are great people with wonderful senses of humour. And while it is different we are looking forward to returning to Eureka - we are so lucky to live in such a beautiful place, so that it will never be hard to come home. Our love to you all.

Roaring Lions and Pregnant Bellies

jane-of-the-jungle — Mon, 25 Sep 2006 00:24:00 GMT

As I write this I can hear the hippos harrumphing like so many old gentlemen in their London club, I can see the vervet monkeys doing acrobatics in the trees, and a beautiful spotted bush buck shyly emerges from the dried Africa grass. Now, here is Donald the gardener, protector of the lettuce from the ellies, catapulting the baboons. When I commented to Kate that I wondered how we had progressed from all the public scratching of testicles and picking of fleas in full view, she suggested that it happened when the first baboon started to worry about what the other baboons thought: the beginning of civilisation. Earlier this morning Donald was chasing elephants who were ripping apart the upmarket tree house where guests pay big bucks to have the real bush experience, and here we are having it for nothing. Flatdogs, where we are staying, is on the Luangwa River at the point where elephants have crossed for years. Their daily journey through the campsite has made it famous, but sometimes causes major angst for the owners not wanting squashed tourists. The local Africans don’t feel the same affection. Last year 19 lives were lost, quite apart from trampled gardens, huts destroyed and the years supply of carefully nurtured maize disappearing in a night. Me, I’m just waiting to say: Sorry I can’t come for a house call as I am surrounded by elephants! We get free entrance to the park and fortunately this compliment was extended to Kate and Marcus. Joe of the Jungle has become an experienced tour guide; backing expertly and speedily from threatening bull elephants. (He has now abandoned his pith helmet as passé. Now we have an acoubra with lion skin trim, shades and knee high crocodile boots. The macho Aussie image. Hopefully people will think that he killed and skinned the croc himself until they see Made in China on the sole. Fortunately no stingrays in Luangwa). As the landscape further out becomes increasingly parched, more animals come to the river and a game drive brings close encounters with all variety of animals and birds. In fact, sometimes they seem to be completely bored with visiting tourists allowing you to get close enough to pat them on the head, particularly the lions, who far from behaving like the kings of the jungle we found gorged after a kill with bloated stomachs lying on their backs with their legs in the air. This is quite unlike the Nyika plateau in Malawi where it is impossible to get close to the great herds of antelope, eland, roan, and kudu. It is great walking country, rather like the downs in England, and we camped in a spectacular campsite where hyenas regularly steal the pots and munch on car tyres. Some drunken Italian campers stole our giant log from our campfire in the night which Joe of the Jungle has struggled to lug from the bush in order to keep us safe from the hyenas. Needless to say, when he emerged bleary-eyed from our tent in the morning and found the log missing he donned his pith helmet, marched over to the Italian camp and in revenge for the Aussie football team gave them a good what for. The language used may not be repeated here without offending (fortunately their English was limited and all they saw was a crazy man yelling obscenities while his ridiculous head attire askew). Happily, the log was recovered. We have missed camping – the sound of hyenas and hippos and the tramp of elephants just outside the flap, but feel safer in our little thatched house (especially when the lions are roaring). Of course it has been hard for Jane in the tiny tent as Joe insists on having his assegi, elephant gun and hippo traps in case of emergency. The weather here is getting hotter and hotter. There is a pool which last year was taken over by a hippo but we dream of Byron Bay and Lake Malawi. We stayed for a week in Chisimulu, an island in the lake in bush shacks owned by Nick who visited in his hippy days and is still there. Gentle wafts of dope float over the camp at sunset. We had arrived at midnight after a journey on the Illala, the Lake Malawi ferry. It took 3 hours to fill the boat with a heave of people carrying everything from great bundles of firewood to bananas, bicycles and lounge suites. The lower decks were packed solid but for a few dollars more we slept on the top deck. At 1am we had to clamber over sleeping bodies and piles of fruits to climb into a little boat to take us to shore. We woke to the red ball of the sun rising over the turquoise blue water and the calls of the fishermen offloading their catch to the waiting women. We later took a dhow across to another island. The sail was so patched there was more hole than sail but it was a glorious crossing. My job here for 3 months accentuates the tourist paradox – GP extraordinaire to the rich and wealthy in the park lodges with most of my time spent in the simple, rather grubby, unresourced health centre. There is a lovely picture of the previous doc patching up an injured baby giraffe in the treatment room. Shock horror the first few days - treating really sick people with minimal drugs, no investigations, no transport to send them to Lismore Base and well, no Lismore Base. Just a hospital, a small hospital, a one doctor hospital where the X-ray machine is broken, the ambulance has crashed and is 2 hours and 15,000 pot holes away. On the third day when I came to work there were no nurses so I had to let go of all inhibitions and great joy, delivered my first baby in 20 years – well to be accurate, the mother without so much of a grunt pushed the baby out into my shocked awaiting arms, so now I am enjoying it. This week we did 6 rural clinics: wonderful affairs where we sit under mango trees waiting until the village women arrive, pregnant bellies, babies tied in bright lap laps on their backs, infants weighed on scales swinging from the tree, masses of curious dusty children crowding in to laugh when the babies wail and women cackling uproariously about some joke about contraception - and me bemusedly feeling rounded tummies, sitting cross legged on a rush mat in a makeshift grass enclosure thinking Jane of the Jungle is a long way from Bangalow. Meanwhile, Joe has started his role: fixing two sterilises, a suction pump and a vacuum extractor, all donated and perhaps rarely used. We have had a wonderful visit with Kate and Marcus who are now travelling with Joe to Victoria Falls. Kate, not one for the rustic style of her parents is writing reviews for two luxury lodges and spent last night in a bush camp tent equipped with a king size bed, claw foot bath and valet service listening to the lions roar. To be more truthful she and Marcus have spent 3 weeks perched in their little tent high on a tree platform above the elephants, only abandoning ship when the nightly elephant control activities - much trumpeting, revving vehicles and buck shot gave them insomnia. Greetings to all and love from all of us.

Ellies behaving badly

jane-of-the-jungle — Sun, 17 Sep 2006 02:55:00 GMT

A loud trumpet and power is out – the wires pulled off the roof. Back in elephant country! Outside at the moment a family of five with two small babies – well, small by elephant standards. There is a cheeky young chap visiting the campsite who is stealing sausages from the Barbie and has broken a couple of car windows to get at the fruit. We have just returned after a month in Malawi. Dollars on legs, they call tourists in Vietnam. “Madam, you were not speeding,” the obnoxious young policeman told me, “but I’m charging you $30 for discourteous driving. And Sir, do not beat your wife up for her offence.” Joe of the Jungle needed to be restrained from assaulting him with his solar topee, while Jane suppressed acidic feminine retorts and laid out the dollars which were destined for who knows where and even managed a “thank you, officer”. Fortunately he was the only Malawian policeman we encountered who knew how to use roadblocks, the others only needing to know how much we liked their country, and in the main Malawians are quite charming and welcoming. Malawi is poor compared to Botswana and even Zambia with an ever-expanding population and decimated natural resources. A fully-grown tree is a rarity leaving a barren landscape of mangoes and ancient baobabs, the trees that are there are very heavily ‘pruned’ often leaving a stump with a few leaves. On the road down the mountains and into the cities the woodmen come in on bicycles precariously laden with meter high bundles of firewood. A future with no fuel, building materials or shade. In the forestry reserve beautiful forests of teak and cedar. We climbed up to Mulanje plateau – a beautiful 3 days walking and staying in the forest huts. Beautiful high forest and grassland with clear streams and waterfalls and colourful mountain flowers. Glorious clear nights in full moon, lighting the mountain with an ethereal light. Our young porters who made the 2000m climb possible had run the walk in a matter of hours but Jane and Joe of the Jungle were more like Jane and Joe of the Geriatric Ward by the time we reached the bottom. Happy moments around the camp fire with the young guys singing songs in Chichewa and telling us folk tales. “Give me Kwacha”, “Look in my shop”, “I show you the lake / shortcut / fish eagles”. Avoiding the ‘beach boys’ at the beach we decided to explore the Mozambique side of the lake and found ourselves at Malindi Mission where Livingston once sat contemplating the lake, at the time he was working to stop the slave trade. The lake before metric days known as the calendar lake is 365 miles long and 52 miles wide, 2300 feet at its deepest part of the great African Rift Valley. In Malindi the people live by fishing in that timeless way that has remained unchanged over the centuries. At night the horizon is lit by hundreds of lanterns creating a city of lights across the lake. The mokoros push the fish into the shore and in the very early morning the silence is broken by a cacophany of voices as the fish are hauled into shore to be set on bamboo racks to be salted and dried . The traditional food for Malawians and Zambians is nsima – finely ground mais porridge and dried fish (not on the cordon-bleu menu at Flatdogs!). The lakeside is the home of the Yao people who have been Muslims since the time of the Swahili-Arab slave traders. Marieke, the young doctor running the hospital in the mission had performed 150 circumcisions that week and in the village we had come across crowds singing and dancing celebrating the initiations while the young boys themselves far from dancing walked wide legged with grimaces on their faces. Joe went to the village and bought fresh Chambo which he grilled by the beach and shared under the stars with Marieke, Mario and Fred, watching the magic of lights flickering out on the lake like hundreds of candles. Last night Kate and Marcus slept in the campsite on a platform 5 m up a tree. They were rudely awakened by thuds down below. One Tusk spying a Danish family packing up to leave had taken a fancy to the pate they had carried preciously overland from Europe, crushed their eski and eaten it plastic container and all. Marcus got some good photographic evidence but unfortunately the police handcuffs were a trifle small. Greetings to you all. I shall update on life in Flatdogs when I log on again, elephants permitting.

Magic moments and Jumbo Junior

jane-of-the-jungle — Tue, 1 Aug 2006 23:49:00 GMT

MAGIC MOMENTS As I am sitting at this computer an elephant is looking in the window, close enough for me to count his eyelashes, all 4 frisky elephant tons of him. I am hoping he does not want to read what I am writing. This little house with its thatched roof and fly wire windows is where we will be living for 3 months when we return from Malawi. It is built under a tree, the fruit of which is as attractive to this adolescent male as teenagers to alcohol. We moved in yesterday - moved being the operative word as we had to move rapidly as junior jumbo was bearing down to greet us and stopped for several hours, munching away. The micro light flight over Victoria falls was pure magic. When Livingstone first saw the falls he wrote that it had such spectacular natural beauty that angels must fly over it. You can imagine him seeing it after months of trekking through the bush. As I flew I am sure my mother was there too flying with her own celestial wings. She believed in exploring and as children took us off the tourist route, down gorges, to watch the elephants crossing the river and exhausted back in the evening to see the lunar rainbow. Lusaka is where I was born, now an energetic African city as Zambia free of World bank debts, and with rising copper prices, is coming out of the doldrums. And it was though it was welcoming me home,36 years later. We stayed at Eureka campsite, irresistible to a Eurekan, where eland wander among the tents. In the bar 5 minutes after arriving I met an old farmer who was able to contact my godmothers son whom I was unaware still lived there on the old property. As a 4 year old, when my twin sisters were born, I was packed off 500 miles to stay with my Auntie Kate. I have very vivid and happy memories of a bush baby in my bed, a talking African parrot and fishing trips -and Autie Kate who I loved and after whom I named our Katie. So to visit her old house brought all this back. We had a lovely Sunday lunch with Brenda Davies, psychic psychiatrist, author, healer, trainer and just a wonderful woman. When I met her at a conference in Byron Bay she had told me of her dream to return to Zambia and we had an immediate shared love. So it was lovely to meet her again and to see this dream in its fruition. Her vision was to provide a home on her farm for orphans to live in an African way, and it was special to meet her family, to see the wonderful relationships they have with one another ,to see the fruits of her dreams and to learn from her trust in God and the universe. Next we met Thandiwe. About 10 years ago, sick of Christmas consumerism, we decided to make our own presents and donate instead, like many Aussies, to World Vision. Our Christmases consequently became busy and joyful. We had questioned the value of visiting, feeling perhaps that the small amount we donated was hardly praiseworthy, but we had not taken into account the joy it would bring to the World Vision workers and to Thandiwe herself. World Vision cares for 80,000 children in Zambia alone. The workers were very welcoming and deservedly proud of all they are achieving in the poor peri-urban settlement where Thandiwe lives. Thandiwe herself was a princess for a day. Dressed in her very best dress the serious little 6 year old had the confidence to sing to us in Chinyanja and then, with very little English, sang word perfectly ”Jesus loves me this I know”, and I am sure he does! The most magic of these moments was managing to find Willison Mpepo who had been our housekeeper for 14 years when we were kids. A visit to a posh Hotel where he had worked informed us that he had retired but they would find him, and indeed in the world of mobile phones he phoned the next day and we met up with him and Eileen, and some of their children and grandchildren. Problems with registration has brought us here to fantastic Flatdogs, before heading tomorrow for Malawi. Now would it not be wonderful if you were here too. Last night we came home rather gingerly ,no elephants, relief , but turned the corner to find him there on the doorstep. I am looking forward to coming back to work and see more of Jumbo Junior. Oh dear, better eat this banana quick.

Farewell leotard

jane-of-the-jungle — Wed, 26 Jul 2006 21:43:00 GMT

At the begining of time the Tsodilo hills rose like an island materialsing from the lake. The lake receded but the hills are still an island in the vast thorn treed flatness of Botswana. Sacred to the San for over 10.000 years the rock paintings, sometimes animals sometimes geometrical designs date back 4000 years giving a wonderful sense of the spirituality of the bushmen. As we explored the caves Joe of the jungle became concerned, leopard paw prints, fresh. What would they think of his leotard? Would they think he had killed a neighbour or worse that he was one of them. On the able fashion advice of our guide and protector, Adam, a gay ex-actor-archeology-student, Joe quickly changed into his Wilbur Smith , big white hunter wannabee, pith helmet and khaki shorts. The leotard he left for the leopard in case of a bad hair day.

The Okavanga was beautiful. Avoiding the dugout makoros traditionally poled through the reed channels by local fishermen, and having a reputation for an annual attrition rate for tourists, we opted for a boat trip. The early morning light on the lagoon and the reed channels was beautiful and we saw wonderful birdlife, crocs and a rare siatunga(backside of). Fortunately no rabid hippos. Adam joined us in a flight over the delta. Magical patterns of rivulets and lagoons cutting through the reeds ,herds of elephant and buffalo.

Our camping has become braver, camping in lonely spots with a big fire and the stars for company. Full moon over the Okavango, remote enough for no one to witness us practcing our emergency escape. Joe, replete with pith helmet and stopwatch, supervising jane making the leap from tent to car. Unfortunatly the timing showed the only animal she would escape would be a tortoise with a limp.

Crossing Chobe gamepark from Maun through deep sand rutted roads reminded me of my mum - no high lift jack, no 4WD, no man , 5 kids in the car trying to reverse from a rhino with a large horn! In Savute the toilets are surrounded by a high wall like a fortress. The elephants had destroyed the previous tiolet and prior to that used to help themselves to the camper's shower water by poking their trunk through the window. I was grievously wounded when a squirrel knibbled my toe. Chobe's elephants were really something. On our last day in Bots we took a boat trip up the Chobe river. Pure magic, swimming elephants, hippos huddling and a large crocodile we got so close to you could smell its bad breath.

In the pinks of the dawn we took the ferry across the great Zambezi, leaving the peace of Botswana for the energetic chaos of Zambia - money sellers, insurance touts, roasted mealies, bulging buses - HOME!

Rhinos with Frostbite

jane-of-the-jungle — Wed, 5 Jul 2006 03:14:00 GMT

Today we are recovering from a disco competition we organised for 200 odd kids, more dangerous than any herd of buffalo. Our days here are sadly coming to a close. It has been very special to be welcomed into the lives of this big warm family, an experience I shall always treasure. Any form of volunteering is as rich as you make it and certainly we have been the recipients of many joyful exchanges.
    SOS day was a lot of fun. The day started at 3 am when the fires were started to cook the slaughtered cow donated by a local chief. Stews were cooked in the houses but the traditional meal was cooked in 5 of those big black 3 legged pots, reminiscent of cartoons about cooking missionaries. Joe of the Jungle was quick to point out that he had never even heard of the Pope , was old and stringy and that Jane would be much juicier. So dawn found us huddled close to the fires as the men supervised the cooking amidst a lot of good humour.
    After speeches, singing (where Jane joined in the mothers choir, shutting up when she did not know the words ) and traditional dancing, all the children queued for what was a delicious feast.
    We headed off for the rhino sanctuary (close, Erica, to Serowe).Passing 60 odd 4wds heading north we realised that this was the annual South African trek to Bots and indeed the camp sites were full of hardy canvas tents and much merry making. Instead of fearing lions it was so cold that I was more concerned a rhino with frostbite might join me in my sleeping bag. In the morning the water pipes were frozen. It took us a while to locate the rhinos who we thought might have escaped for warmer climes in Europe, but we eventually found them skating on the water hole looking fetching in pink tutus. Real brass monkey weather, worrying for the breeding program.
    Our rhino trekking unfortunately led us into a camp of fierce beer swilling Africaans men; the leopard skin leotard went down well as you can imagine.
    Joe has been setting up the car so we don' t have to sleep in the little tent if there are lions around. I have not thought yet of how to pee in the night. Wilbur Smiths characters did not seem to find such things a problem. Your intrepid explorers keep hearing stories about lions surrounding cars and elephants tipping them up. One has visions of the elephants, "Another bloody Landrover Nellie, cant stand the colour, just be a dear and go and sit on it." "Jumbo, you know I only do the Toyotas, they don't scratch my rump"
    So we head off for 6 weeks travelling. Hopefully a couple of weeks in Botswana then into Zambia and Malawi. Bots has gold plated animals and costs a fortune.
It has been wonderful to get comments and e mails and keep in touch with you all.

Our love to you .

Knitting in the Jungle

jane-of-the-jungle — Sat, 24 Jun 2006 02:04:00 GMT

Joe of the Jungle has been mistakenly elected to be male representative on the Village knitting team, to enter a sponsored knit run by the local womens institute (CWA), in aid of SOS Village. Concerned for his macho image, and grumbling that this is not what he came to learn in Africa, he has refused to wear his CWA Christmas party outfit because we left the hat at home. So he is out there practicing, (many rude words) wearing his leopard skin leotard and knitting with 2 spears. Sponsorship for this event raising money for outdoor sports equipment is very welcome, a dollar per stitch should set you back by about 50 cents.

The village is abuzz this week getting ready for SOS day, when all the local chiefs and bigwigs come to visit. So there have been choirs practicing, traditional dancers dancing and a lot of cleaning. I was elected to babysit while the mothers went shopping. Very tempted to put valium into 12 toddlers orange juice but we all had fun and I retired exhausted when the mothers returned 4 hours later. There is one little chap who has not yet turned 2 but is a real Ronaldino with a soccer ball. We have bushman triplets here who are always laughing. Tonight a slaughtered cow will arrive and the whole village will be set cooking.

We watched Australia play Brazil in the one house where the mother has a telly, along with 12 children and other visitors. The kids were great at singing Ozzie Ozzie Ozzie oy oy oy but still cheered wildly when Brazil scored.

In 2 weeks we head off travelling and will say Goodbye to SOS. While we have only made a small contribution in the life of the village it has been an uplifting experience. My father loved Africa and spent 40 years here, never really recovering from leaving. His love was not for flora and fauna, he really loved Africans. Being here with the children and all those who work here has been wonderful. Everyone from the Director to the grounds men find the time not only to do their own work but to have a few moments with the kids. Alright, the pace is different and one of my lessons certainly has been to let go the need to achieve, valuing my own worth in terms of things done. So it has been good just being.

This weekend after SOS celebrations we are off to the Rhino sanctuary with our trusty tent.”Why the Rhino Stamps his Feet?”…………….

Thankyou for your comments, it is lovely having you here in spirit and of course would be even better if you visited.

Two human frisbees

jane-of-the-jungle — Sun, 18 Jun 2006 03:45:00 GMT

On the banks of the grey, green, greasy, Limpopo River, beloved, that self same river where the elephant child got his trunk, Kipling could have written a sequel about How Joe and Jane of the Jungle became 2 large human Frisbees after being flattened by a large hippopotamus. These were my thoughts at 4 in the morning where we were in our small, flimsy dome tent listening to a hippo chorus which appeared to be getting closer. Discretion being the better part of valour we hightailed it out of the tent and spent the rest of the night in the car. Our only neighbours in the campsite had commented that our tent would not ward off hyenas and that building up the campfire was of no use as hippos are attracted by fires and come and stamp them out. Flea ,Joes friend in Gaberone who had lent us the tent among many other generosities, had also taken great glee in telling us a life time of Africa stories which that particular night made me wish I had stayed at the Hilton.

The evening had been just beautiful, one of those magic evenings when you feel you are close to heaven. Full moon, sitting by a campfire by the banks of the Limpopo with all those night sounds that are Africa, distant hippo grunts and cicadas, thinking how great it would have been to share it with you. We had had our first sighting of elephants along with zebras, impala and kudu. The neighbours had been chased by a grumpy one tusker just to add spice and comeuppance for being rude about our tent.

Now back in Francistown and the end of a perfect weekend truanting from the orphanage to watch the soccer , texting Binky after every goal, what a match!!!!!

Life at SOS is all good. Everything cruises along. Today the clinic was quiet so I spent the morning with the kindies who are very funny and a lot of fun. Then I taught the adolescent girls about safe sex and later joined the mothers choir. They are preparing for SOS day when we will have singing and traditional dancing and a wire car making comp for he boys. The younger adolescent girls are very funny and ask things like why would grandmothers want to have sex. When they see me they have an embarrassed giggle. I was teaching them about abstinence and saying NO using a clapping song to control the giggles. Afterwards I heard them walking off down the village singing no,no,no, no no, but realised they are little different from our own kids when they started singing YES, YES, YES, YES ,YES!!!!!!

Gallery: jungle pics

jane-of-the-jungle — Fri, 9 Jun 2006 01:56:00 GMT

gen

At the orphanage

jane-of-the-jungle — Fri, 9 Jun 2006 01:51:00 GMT

SOS Childrens Village Francistown At last we have our website going! It has beeen taking us ½ hour to open one e mail! We have now been here 3 weeks, living in SOS Francistown. The SOS villages are the inspiration of a Dane and are now all over the world. Orphans I am sure in the past have been cared for by the extended family in Africa but now with HIV many do not have that chance. Still this is not like the Dickensian orphanages you hear of in Romania or Korea, it is such a happy place. While housing, feeding and educating 230 children ought to need the infrastructure of the British Army, instead here, in the African way it all seems to happen with not so much as a raised voice and with a lot of laughter. The children live in family groups of up to 14 with 2 mothers and they stay with this group until at 18 they go to the youth house, where they learn to fend for themselves. It is quite beyond jane of the jungle’s master of domestic chaos to even imagine how you look after 14 children, dole out medication for the sick ones from 5 in the morning, spoon feed little babies, cook 3 meals for 16 and remain sane! The children accept their domestic chores and keep their rooms spotless. You see I should have gone for lessons! In contrast to being miserable there are constant games of soccer, wire car making and dancing going on and people often burst into song. As a volunteer you have to define for yourself what is useful, as they of course function really well without you. They think Joe of the Jungle has been sent by God to do all the repairs that have overwhelmed the 6ft 4 Matabele who does the maintenance, as there is a constant source of repairs from cars to bikes to school tables and lawn mowers. So for the present he has put aside his assegai and is up to his armpits in nuts and bolts. Joe OTJ has been very disappointed not to have the chance to wear his leopard skin leotard he had been wearing in the macas practicing his high swings and yodelling while supposedly harvesting. Most men of any distinction in Gaberone wore dark suits and shades and drove Mercedes. Perhaps when we go to the Game park. In the absence of a nurse here I have taken that role which is a little clinical work and supervising the mothers. I run exercise classes which are a lot of fun as most of the women are bigger than me and they have a good laugh at my attempts at traditional dancing. I have been doing teaching for the adolescents, safe sex being a life or death issue here. There are 32 children with HIV. Fortunately the Bill Gtaes foundation in funding a very effective treatment program so most of them are very well on their antiretroviral. Their stories are very sad, having lost both parents to HIV, then developing malnutrition followed by recurrent infections and often TB before getting frank AIDS. Here on regular medication and good food and care they thrive. During my time in Gaberone I did spent some time in hospital which was educative but very sad so many young people with Aids with TB, cryptococcal meningitis or pneumocystis pneumonia. That aside the staff here support very happy normal children who thrive in this place and become quite impressive young people. Our time in Europe was as always special. Sadly too short to catch up with friends but great to see family in England and to visit Kate in Spain where Marcus family soon felt like close friends. Joe and I knew that Mary, Joes mum, was dying, so saying goodbye was hard. She faded away gently like a flower and died 2 days after we arrived in Botswana. Joe went back to England and joined all her family in saying farewell. A long and dignified life. We will miss her. Marcus and Kate and my sister Cath are hoping to join us for a few weeks while we are in Zambia. On safari with Joe of the Jungle this weekend we are off to the bush. We save funds by camping which seems very trepidations as the tent feels very flimsy against the lions, elephants and dinosaurs lurking out there. Last time we shook all night only to find our camp marauder was a donkey. Joe of the jungle did not go forth with his assegai but joined Jane hiding in the sleeping bag. Love to all.

practice only

jane-of-the-jungle — Tue, 30 May 2006 04:46:00 GMT

Your intrepid travellers ventured from the safety of the orphanage on their first camping trip. We camped at a Bird sanctuary by the salt pans. The tent we have borrowed seemed flimsy and insubstantial compared to the lions elephants and dinasaurs lurking out there. We followed all the rules driving the 2 meters to the toilet and staying very quiet apart from the tent vibrating with our nervousness. In the morning we discovered the wild animal threatening us in the night was a donkey. The pans were really spectacular. Miles of white salt encrusted sand seemingly going on for miles. Then is the lakes left by the last rains flocks of flamingo and pelicans.This is just a trial run so please reply so we know if it works

love to you all Jane and Joe.