of Schools and Ships and Hermit Crabs

As memories of mozambique time sail into the distance like a brightly coloured ship, I am bobbing on turbulent summer waters in a sea of green, while HMS Christmas Day steams steadily towards me, belching tinsel smoke and trailing streamers. She is on course, and will not be deterred.

But first – Mozambique. Getting there in pouring rain, that turned the national coastal road into a slippery slide of sloshy mud and potholes with drop-offs alongside to give you a full rush of vertigo. A narrow navigable strip in the center that had to be vied for with massive growling juggernauts hurtling confidently towards us. It was slow going, and it got dark, and the adventure would have gripped the imagination of any Play Station addict. But we made it. The rain became drizzle, the mud cleared and the traffic lessened as we drove further north.


Five hours on a bush track, and we were there. The warm sun sweeping away the remaining clouds, and the wide vista of aqua blues poured balm on knotted shoulders and necks. Paradise found.

First things first – down the boardwalk to the soft white sand. Dip toes in gentle silky wavelets. Greet the hermit crabs labouring through sand under water – leaving a tracery of tracks in dappled sunlight. Watch out for the sunglass stealing fish – who are there in gangs and leap from the water at a moments notice. Breathe deeply, and again, slow the pace.

Days of Dhow Jones Cruising lay ahead but first we must deliver the boxes of donated school books, stationary, toys, pencils and crayons – lovingly compiled by Geli of Letters from Usedom, who has been supporting the primary school in Morape village in this way for the past seven years. School had closed for the holidays, but word was sent around and many of the children showed up to meet us at the school.

Thanks Geli!!!

The school is currently a loosely fenced area of sand with a series of classrooms in various states of disrepair. The main school room having been destroyed in the cyclone three years ago. These kids have very little in terms of learning aids, but have no shortage of energy and enthusiasm – especially when it came to the two footballs that tumbled out of one of the boxes! Thanks to the wonderful efforts of our friends in the blogosphere, we will be able to rebuild one of these school rooms in the new year – with a tin roof, cement floor, and real solid walls.

one of the classrooms

this little girl arrived late having run all the way in her best dress

The gesture sounds simple, but it is no small feat organizing logistics, transport of materials by dhow across the bay; getting the approval and co-operation of the Chief, and village elders, and and..but we persevere and at last it looks do-able especially as the fathers of the children now seem willing to participate and assist where they can with labour, moving materials, gathering local materials and so on. It is wonderful to see their enthusiasm and interest.



On the way back from school we stopped to buy coconuts; and Dhow Jones came over the horizon. She has a motor now – an on board that sounds a lot like a tractor but can get you home when the wind drops or blows the wrong way.

She took us to islands of dreams – white sand dunes emerging from turquoise seas; she showed us turtles and dolphins and even a dugong. Gazing down into the giant aquarium seas watching starfish or many colours drift slowly by. When we were cooked, thirsty, tired and salty, she brought us safely back to camp backlit by technicolour sunsets, or later lit by soft moonlight on gentle water.

Time stood still in languid moments, but behind the scenes it was racing, and the week sped away. We drove home in two days, and jumped back in at the deep end. Suddenly everything needs to be done before the country shuts down for the Christmas holidays. We made lists; we are ticking things off – we are getting through it all. I started chipping away at the shopping list. I even stumbled over a CD of Christmas carols by Bob Dylan.

Truly. I will get it all done – I will. Then on that strange day of days, when so many people fight loneliness, I will cook a turkey , and we will pull crackers, read corny jokes, eat and drink, and toast to absent friends and family.



But first back to the list….

P.S - I finished my Nanowrimo challenge - Fifty Thousand Words in one month!! It felt good - a sense of achievement. One of these days I shall look back and read the strange tale of a river, a window in time, and things that can happen there. I had fun with it - though at times words flowed easier than at other times, and maybe the ending was abstract - and certainly the whole script calls for a rewrite, but the journey was all.

gonna spend some time in mozambique - YES

Drizzling soaking rain. The ground is a saturated sponge. The trees are bursting to the seams with new green grown. Tiny leaves are poking their way out of holes in the branches. The road is a running stream and all the dams are full of froggy water.




Tomorrow we are driving to mozambique. I have been writing words like a creature possessed – trying to stay ahead of the word count for the next few days when we are on the road. But I find I am having so much fun with this nanowrimo thing. The characters have become people in my head. I talk about them confusing the living with the fictional. The story would not withstand an expert eye but who cares! Its my story and its all about getting fifty thousand words down. FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS. And I am nearly at forty thousand now. The thought blows my mind. Its more words than I have spoken aloud this whole year I am sure.



Where they come from nobody knows. Where they are going only they know.



So I am taking it with me, and when I have put my feet in that warm silk sea, and gazed at the fish from the boardwalk; and had my first sighting of Dhow Jones on the horizon; and eaten my first prawn, or pineapple, then I shall pull out my laptop and with luck bash out the final stages.



Funny I always worried about how to start a book. But that was easy – I just jumped in the water and started swimming. There was no plot or plan , I just started pushing out words. Then a sort of story line started to emerge – several actually – and I worried about how they would all come together. Now I wonder how to finish.



No pictures today. Sorry but I must go and pack my swimmies and my sunnies. When we get back this place will have transformed into summer green. Stay well everyone, keep smiling – even when people think you are deranged – and enjoy it all. Blog on!!

frog party is on tonight

Yesterday was sweltering hot. The ground was a furnace – I went out without shoes and had to hop skip and jump to the shade. I walked around the house dripping sweat from every pore like a leaky water sack. I jumped in the pool, I had a shower, and each gave five minutes respite before the radiator started boiling again.




At sunset we saw the big male lion walk past the front of the house. He went after a warthog, which broke into a flat out run. I have never seen a warthog stretch his pace so far. He escaped the thundering lion. The lion stopped by the waterhole and looked around to see we were watching. He looked right at us, and then stooped to drink at the water for long long minutes.



A sound behind the house, the dassies scampering from the trees, a branch breaking. The lion looked up and ran over to the water tank where the rest of the pride had brought down a young nyalla. We drove around and there they all were. Some with bloodied fore-paws, plenty of growling and munching sounds; the cubs had not eaten yet. The spotlight reflected pairs of eyes all around the footpath and in the rocks.



We came home. Then the researchers arrived. It felt odd to be in the house, while researchers spot lit feeding lions just by our water tank. So we turned the lights off and watched again.

During the night, I was woken by flashes of light. Bright as fireworks – lightening all around us. I got up to unplug the phones, and computers. The thunder was still far away and I wondered if it would rain at all.



Then it started. Our first proper rain of the season. Sounds like stones being thrown onto our roof, gaining momentum to a heavy thrumming. The ground so hard, and hot, during the day, now ran with rivers of silver rain – lit by the lightening show.

Water poured in rivulets down roads and pathways, finding its way to the dam.

This morning a whole new world of freshness. Bright green new leaves already showing in sprays along grey branches. The earth plumped up like a sponge is soft and cool to walk on. Bird calls fill the air, and the bull frogs are out. Tonight there will be a frog party in every waterhole – deafening us with their distinctive calls. The base notes of bull frogs, the tenors of red toads, trilling of rubber frogs, and glooping of bubbling kasinas. I can’t resist it. We go there and the sound completely fills up our whole heads. I will record it …. again; and send it to vaguely interested pals…..again. It never ceases to amaze me.

The frog party is ON tonight everyone - and if you can find a prince in there somewhere GOOD LUCK!

magical moment

Its getting late and I've written thousands of words today - or 'southands' as some people would say.

This NaNoWriMo thing has taken over my brain - fun though it is - its a froggy leap of faith

so i thought we would nip away together to a special place where the sea is like warm silk and the fish jump out of the water and steal your sunglasses

we could go by boat - on the magnificent Dhow Jones. Her well worn timbers creak and moan when she is under way - its like she is talking to you or singing a wooden sea shanty

and then we could wish on stars!

good morning!

Crocodile Tales

We are sitting on the stoep of my friends' lovely home, with the broad sweep of the Chobe River visible through a window in the evergreen forest.  It has been a stinking hot day, and the pool sparkles invitingly. Two bull terriers bark at a partially submerged pool brush – their water sport; one of them dives in to retrieve and emerges sleek as a seal pup.

We are all old friends. We have spent so much time together over the years in this part of the world. We start to reminisce – like real old people. Do you remember when….

Sounds of construction, traffic, heavy transport vehicles, rumble back from the main road. A river of sound and chaos passing by unseen in the heat zone. We are caught in an island of serenity between the Chobe and the river of sound.

Somehow the conversation turns to crocodiles.  Long ago we used to jump off the jetty and swim in the cool brown river. No-one would really think seriously of doing that today. The crocodile population has increased enormously, and they are not shy.

Some attribute this to escapees from the nearby crocodile farm. Apparently these penned crocodiles are in the habit of climbing out of their pens at night and into the river – returning home at dawn to lie around and wait for feeding time. I can't say whether this is true or an urban legend. What is real though is that there seem to be many more crocodiles, and they don't move away too easily from the boats.

Fishermen have been grabbed and pulled into the water. There are signs warning people to stay away from the banks. Ignore these at your peril.  In a campsite, a young German couple put their tent on the wrong side of the warning sign. That night a crocodile crawled out of the river and grabbed the girl through the tent. Luckily her screams awoke the other campers and a young guide leaped onto the back of the crocodile and managed to free the girl. She escaped with some bite marks and scars to tell the tale.

Another man, persuaded by his son to go 'skinny dipping' in the river after a few drinks – watched as a crocodile grabbed his son and swam away with him into the swirling depths.

That night the Defense Force and local residents of the town searched and searched the river and banks but found nothing.

At the rapids, a local man was fishing when a crocodile leaped up and grabbed his dog. Crocodiles love to eat dogs.  It wasn't such a big crocodile so the man managed to fight it off, but his hands and arms were badly mauled in the process. He crawled to the roadside to get help.  Someone stopped and he was rushed to the nearest emergency ward in Francis town – 5 hours away.  He was kept there for a few weeks for treatment and recovery. In the meantime his faithful dog sat by the roadside, where he had left his bloodied shirt, and refused to be moved. He waited and waited. Soon people started to bring him food.  He stayed right there until his master returned!

Each story told evokes another tale – some are legends and some are all too current. Children stolen by crocodiles; crocodiles hunted – wanted for murder - the evidence held in their stomachs.  Sometimes many crocodiles are shot before the guilty party is discovered. Sometimes the culprit is never found.

Despite the technology of town, building sites, traffic jams and road rage, the river continues steadily, and the crocodiles – unchanged for millennia – continue their reptilian ways. We grab another cold beer from the fridge and reminisce some more.

the jiz of giraffes

Inspired by a recent comment on my blog from Reya of After The Gold Puppy, I shall attempt to describe giraffes from a very non scientific but observational place.

Giraffes are cool. They may have invented cool. They stand around like fashion models, with long legs and long necks, gazing out of heavy lidded limpid eyes through a veil of dark lashes. They are aloof. Different. They don't speak or make a noise that we can hear. They communicate between themselves via ultrasound – a secret language only giraffes can share.

Giraffes are unintrusive. They are quintessentially African, able to co-exist in areas with human livestock by their ability to reach higher browsing levels. Their collective noun is a Journey of Giraffes. Although often seen in small groups the larger group is usually more widely scattered, so they seem to travel together over a broad space keeping an eye out for each other over the treetops. We usually find that there are no giraffes at all in sight, and then suddenly they are everywhere – peeping out from behind trees, anthills and cruising the floodplains.

Giraffes can stare longer and harder than any other living thing. They can win any staring contest hands down. If they see something unusual or potentially harmful, they stare fixedly while deciding whether they need to flee. If we are looking for lions, we often try to follow the giraffes gaze, but sometimes they are just dozing, or ruminating.

They live on tiny little leaves of the acacia trees which they strip with the aid of their long blue tongues. Sometimes they chew on old bones for calcium. They have special valves in their neck so that when they stoop to drink at the waterhole, the blood keeps flowing to and from their brains – otherwise they would faint.

Because they are so quiet, aloof and elegant, we tend to assume they are non aggressive. However bull giraffes can get into angry fights when they swing their giant strong necks at the opponent – aiming a good size body blow. Their horns are bony extensions of their skulls covered with hide. On older bulls the bone can show through on the tips. An angry bull fight consists of graceful arcs and swoops, necks entwined, that can be to the death of the opponent.

Their main defence against predators is a powerful back kicking motion delivered while in flight.  They are strong enough to break a lions jaw, and send it flying. It is not uncommon to see giraffes with the scars of close encounters with lions, on their flanks. While on their feet they are pretty agile and strong, so a predator would need to knock them off balance in order to pull them down – or catch them in a tight corner.

They are very vulnerable when stooping to drink , and their stares pierce the surrounding bush for long minutes before they decide it is safe to do so.  In order to reach the water they have to spread their forelegs really wide, which also makes slippery mud a hazard. If their feet slip they can damage themselves so badly that they may not be able to get back onto them again. It is also a hazard of the mating procedure – so its not all plain sailing to be a giraffe.

I love it when the giraffes move in around the studio. They usually stay for several days and venture ever closer. It does mean though, that they are short of browsing in the reserve so it's a sign of a difficult time for them.

Their jigsaw pattered hides are distinctive and evocative, and amazingly good camouflage. If they are standing still amongst the trees, it is possible to drive right up to and almost past them before seeing them. Standing still and staring seems to be their first resort. Perhaps they are the information gatherers of the spectrum- silently watching all others go about their business and daily dramas. Giraffes are calm.

"Take Giraffes - why are they so dinosaur like and why cant they speak? I know why they survive but its like they go out of their way to be bizarre - a long snake like tongue, two horns sticking out of their heads that they hardly use.  They  seem to be on a different time scale to us too.  The stare too long.  They take too long to drink. Their clocks are ticking at a different pace. They have big bones - yet they eat little leaves, make tiny droppings, ; whats going on up there? Its embarassing - all they do is stare and not speak.  "  KJ

They don't peck on your windows, poo in your kitchen, steal your food, chase your guests, bite, climb trees, or scream in your ear.

Giraffes are cool.