All Good Things Come to an End

I have almost completely recovered from my jet lag and in my mind this marks the end of my South African adventure. Less than a week ago I was heading out every morning with Heike and the crew to track down elephants and collect data. Today, back on the farm, I am back to the grind vaccinating calves, shovelling manure, and drying off cows.

If you had asked me what I knew about South Africa eight weeks ago, Mufasa and Simba would have automatically popped into my head. I would have pictured the vast savannah landscape and large herds of animals (probably doing a musical number), Zazoo, and the massive Baobab tree. When I first stepped onto South African soil two months ago I may have had to fight the urge to look around for Pride Rock. Everyone develops preconceptions of the places they have never been, and thanks to Disney, I had developed mine. With the support from family and friends this trip was made possible. The weeks before my trip were filled with anxiety and more than once I thought about pulling out. But now, sitting here at home with my trip behind me, I am grateful to everyone who helped give me the final push to take this challenge and undertake one of the best experiences of my life.

The weeks I spent on the Pongola Game Reserve were unforgettable. It was incredible how quickly Eva, Louise, Abbey, and I became friends. Any inhibitions we originally had about one another were soon replaced by friendship and these bonds grew stronger as we experienced Africa together. Our first elephant sighting was by far one of the best days we had on the PGR and we shared the excitement of seeing the AB herd for the first time. We spent hours upon hours together in the Ele-truck, when we weren’t collecting data we discussed our university lives, comparing and contrasting the difference in our student psyches, we talked about food (a lot), and all shared the same eagerness for when lunch time rolled around. Back at the Loose, Louise and I learned to start a fire successfully, the fire that we spent our nights around, talking relationships and gossiping. I will never forget those three and will hopefully have a chance to visit each of them in the years to come. During my last two weeks I got to know Emily, Lydia, and Kirsti even better and the elephants continued to amaze us each and every day. The four of us were subjected to more rainy days than we would like to admit but we made the most of them by watching endless amounts of movies and enjoying the local brews.

Heike, Lionel, K, and Andre made the experience even more memorable. The braai’s that Andre organized were incredible, K was always there offering support for us as a mentor and as a friend, Lionel always knew how to make us laugh and the dogs Butch and Tiny never ceased to amaze us, and lastly, Heike. Heike taught us everything we needed to know and more about the elephants of the PGR and was always willing to go the extra mile to help us make our projects a success.

I will never forget watching the elephant calves playing in the mud or chasing after their mothers. One of the very last days I was on the PGR we were collecting data on the AB herd north of the airstrip. Near the end of our day, as the herd was slowly moving off, one of the younger calves had lost his mother. As we sat in the Ele-truck we watched as the calf ran back and forth through the brush, trunk raised, searching for his mother. A moment would pass when the calf disappeared from view, but within seconds he could be seen streaking across our plane of view again. I won’t forget seeing Kohlewe pulling pipes out of the ground to drink from them, nor will I forget the humbling effect Ngani had on all of us every time we saw him.  

I went to South Africa with very little knowledge of the culture and history of the country and through my time on the PGR, my very short time in Johannesburg, and my Soweto tour, my understanding of the struggles that the people of South Africa have faced, and are still facing, has increased. I have been able to see my life in Canada in a new light, and I have realized how much of my daily life I take for granted. Now that I am home I can share all the pictures and stories that I have accumulated during my time away. In three weeks I will be headed back to Saskatoon and begin to use the data that I collected to construct my undergraduate thesis. This experience will define this chapter in my life and if the opportunity arises for me to return to South Africa, I will not hesitate to do so.

This entry concludes my blog and my adventures half way across the world. The past eight weeks have changed my life, and through my experiences on the PGR I can confidently say that not only do I really love elephants, but I also love South Africa.

Trapped in Heathrow... The Sequel

Once again I find myself in the airport I have learned to dread. Throngs of travellers are suffocating the small area we are forced to occupy while we wait in limbo for our gates to be announced.

My flight from South Africa seemed doomed from the start when I found myself seated in the middle of the middle row. Not what I was expecting due to my preconceived notion of where I was meant to sit... I soon learned that the seating scheme on the plane was completely different than the last one. Luckily, the seat beside me was empty, relieving the claustrophobic environment slightly. I managed to watch four movies and was surprised by the quality of my dinner... breakfast once again was mush but I enjoyed it in silence as there were no children to be heard of, literally.

The flight landed at 7:25am and I peeled my greasy self out of my seat and made my way to the awaiting shuttle. I managed to make the transit to terminal three unscathed before finding my place in another security line. Somehow between disembarking, getting on a shuttle, and making my way to the security, I may have managed to acquire something illegal... or so airport security suspected.

I have always known that habits, even mannerisms, are often hard to overcome, but today in security I witnessed it first hand. I have always had a natural habit of swinging my backpack over my left shoulder, and my left shoulder alone. My camera was the first item to go through the scanner, so it was obviously the first thing I slung over my shoulder as I grabbed my laptop to place in my backpack. Now came the tricky part. I stood there for almost a minute, looking like a complete knob, as my brain tried to figure out how I could possibly pick my backpack up.... my left shoulder was already occupied! I would like to blame this incident on the lack of sleep or the jet lag, but I have my doubts that it wasn’t my brain attempting to resist change. After a slight aneurism, I snapped out of my stupor, grabbed my backpack, and awkwardly placed it onto my right shoulder and without looking back headed toward the exit.

I had worked out that my layover would be two hours and was eager to burn the time away. At 9:25am by my watch, I made my way to the departure screen to find out what gate I was supposed to be at. The moment I laid my eyes on the screen my cheery mood deflated like a bouncy castle. So amazing and upbeat at one moment, and then completely emotionless. I hadn’t turned my watch back one hour to account for the time change... It was only 8:25am. To lift my spirits I dug through the pile of random change I had, sorted through the Canadian coins, Rand, and Euros, until I found the few British Pounds I had left so I could access the internet for a mere ten minutes.

So there I was, out of pounds and also laptop battery. To burn even more time I resorted to pre-writing this blog in a notebook that I had. During this time, surrounded by hundreds of people, I took to people watching. It is really interesting picking up on a person’s individual style, but I’m not sure if I would go as far as to say their fashion sense. I saw a traveller in a hot pink, floor length dress, another girl was wearing knee-length cut off jeans over tights with odd strips of fabric missing. Before I had found my seat, I had wandered aimlessly among the rows of seated travellers. I couldn’t help but notice a sleeping man with “Shit House” tattooed in blue and red, displayed on his calf on a banner. This really made me wonder what sort of life this man could have led to ever pay for such a tattoo, or what sort of bet he must have lost.

The time was finally 9:25am and I marched myself out of the zoo. The eight hour time change destroyed me, the flight to Vancouver was technically nine hours, but in the end it only took me an hour and a half to reach my almost-final destination. I managed to watch four more movies back-to-back. No sleep for me during this trip.

My flight landed at the YVR terminal at 12:15pm, it was 9:15pm in South Africa and I was still running on this time. I was coherent enough to follow the crowd of people to customs and successfully made my way through security to the baggage claim. I can’t imagine how terrible I looked, my eyes were drooping and I was a train wreck. I stood waiting for my baggage for half an hour before starting to worry. Neither one of my bags ended up making it to Vancouver. Somehow, during the four hours I spent in Heathrow, I had managed to lose my bags. To make matters worse, the vegetation samples I had spent hours collecting and processing were in my bag. I would have to claim their existence without having them present. I made my way to the baggage inquiry desk and managed not to cry for the first half of the conversation. I was exhausted and the anxiety had gotten to me. This was the beginning of a three hour ordeal, constant water-works, and wads of toilet paper. I managed to cry in front of two security guards, five customs workers, a Tim Horton’s cashier, and approximately 500 passengers that laid eyes upon me within this time. I had been travelling for over forty hours and my emotions were haywire. Before my permit and samples could be approved I was on my way to make my final flight. I would have to wait to hear from customs after I had made it home.

By the time I had made it to security once more to make my way into the domestic flights wing of the airport I had cried myself dry (or at least for the time being). I had managed to pull myself together and aside from puffy, blood shot eyes, I looked like the typical haggard traveller. My flight to the island was delayed by 45 minutes; aside from a few tears I distracted myself from my current situation by blasting my ipod in my ears. Luckily no one asked me what was wrong or tried to help, any contact with a stranger would have probably led to another breakdown. The twelve minute flight allowed me to relax slightly but by the time I had walked into the terminal and was greeted by my mom and Natalie I was crying again.

It is still surreal to be home and other then not watching TV for 8 weeks, it seems as if I had never left. The time in South Africa is 5:10am; I have almost hit the 48 hour mark and am convinced I am partially insane for not going to bed as soon as I got home. My blackberry is functional once again and I can’t wait to share my pictures and stories with everyone. I am back to reality, back to life.

Flying Solo in Joburg

You never really understand what it is like to be travelling alone until it happens to you. Yesterday afternoon I sat in the bar with three perfect strangers for four hours, barely saying a word the entire time, I watched an entire rugby game on TV for the first (and possibly last) time in my life. It seemed that everyone I met at the hotel was starting their African journey, while mine was coming to a close. After dinner I retreated to my room and spent two hours in the bathtub watching a movie. Time seemed to be at a stand still, even compared to sitting in the Ele-truck for hours on end. I also spent hours trying to decide whether or not to spend every last cent I had on a day trip into Joburg, or whether to spend a miserable day alone at the hotel. I would have nine hours to kill after I checked out of my room if I had chosen the later. I eventually made the choice to explore the largest township in South Africa, Soweto.

I was up at 8:00am this morning to make sure I had everything ready before I headed out at 9:30am for my day trip. After eating breakfast and packing myself a lunch, I checked out of the hotel and awaited my tour guide. The drive to Soweto clearly established the line between the upper, middle, and lower classes. I was blown away by how quickly the housing landscape changed as our drive took us closer to Soweto. We even passed communities that were still only “white communities” by regulation. Soweto was originally established as a housing area for the rural workers hired to work in the mines surrounding Joburg. The massive piles of soil can still be found in Joburg, as well as the same-sex hostels that were once used to house hundreds of men. Once a shanty-town, Soweto is now a well-developed area with thousands of houses.

The first stop we made was to the Hector Peterson Museum. Henri Peiterson was the first victim of the Soweto uprising in the late 70’s. He was twelve years old when he was shot and killed during a university march. The museum highlighted the events that took place in the years surrounding this event. I spent an hour or so in the museum reading through the history and viewing photographs. My next stop was Nelson Mandela’s house. The house became the Mandela House Museum in 2009 after it was restored to its original condition. I was given a brief history of the Mandela family and a tour of the house and yard while I was there.The rest of the day went fairly quickly, I had a chance to visit the church that played a huge role in providing a place for secret revolutionary meetings to be held, as well as visit a cultural village.

The last stop of the day was to one of the largest malls in Joburg, situated in Soweto. The mall had two stories and words can’t describe how massive it was. My guide took me inside and I can confidently say that I was the only Caucasian in the mall that day. I couldn’t help but wonder how out of place I looked and was also slightly nervous about being plunged so quickly into the minority position. I have never undergone such an experience in my life, or at least not by myself. Being a Sunday, the mall was bustling with shoppers and every store seemed to be packed with customers.

By the time we returned to the hotel it was 2:00pm. I had originally arranged for the hotel shuttle to take me to the airport at 4:00pm, but I decided to leave at 3:00pm seeing as I didn’t have any reason to stick around. I was through security and into duty free heaven by 4:30pm.... it is now 6:45pm, my flight boards in an hour. I have managed to snoop through every shop here in the airport... twice or maybe even three times... and finally decided to find my gate and relax for awhile. I have been going over the past seven weeks in my head continuously the last few days. I still can’t fathom the fact that by this time tomorrow I will be home. I will board this flight and be gone, just like that. I have developed this sense of urgency to get home, go back to school, graduate, and get on with my life. As if time hasn’t passed fast enough, and after discovering even more possibilities for my future, I can’t wait for my “responsible” life to begin.

At 7:30pm I will board my flight... and oddly enough I am sitting in the same seat as before (weird), the plane will take off at 8:20pm and the eleven hour flight to Heathrow (my most favourite airport in the world... clearly) will begin. Canada, get ready, here I come.

The Journey Home Begins

The first time I rode in the front seat of the Ele-truck, behind Heike, was when it was finally my turn to leave the Pongola Game Reserve. I had never realized the view was so different from my usual spot at the very back, beside the spare tire. As we made our way toward the front gate where I was to be picked up, I viewed the reserve for one last time. The landscape is breathtaking. It had been sunny that morning, creating a faint glow over the waters of the Jozini Dam, the vast mountains formed an amazing backdrop in the distance, and the thickets and floodplains were quivering due to a light breeze. After seven weeks of enjoying the PGR, it was time to go home.

My official last day before I left had been one of the best days of my entire stay. Heike had arranged for us to take a boat cruise on the lake and the weather was perfect for it. After collecting data on Ntini and OJVM2 that morning we made sure to be back at the Loose by 2:00pm for pickup. Warren took us to the jetti where our boat awaited us. The weather was amazing and warm enough to wear shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops. My feet hadn’t seen daylight in weeks! For the first leg of the trip we headed east towards the river that cuts across Mpalane. We had brought our scan and focal sheets with us in case we were lucky enough to see the elephants on the shoreline. As usual, the elephants didn’t cooperate, but we did manage to see dozens of crocodiles, hippos, ridiculous amounts on birds, as well as any antelope species that were on the shoreline. I managed to really out do myself in terms of taking pictures, during the trip I was deleting older photos to make room for the 350 pictures I somehow managed to take. By the end of the cruise my eyes were aching from the sun’s glare on the water and the vision in my right eye was fuzzy. Obvious indicators of a successful trip!

We were back in camp by 5:30pm and I rushed to finish up a few things that I had left to the last minute so I could focus on packing. Packing turned out to be a challenge. I had decided to leave behind as much as I could to clear up some room in my bags. Unfortunately, my packing skills have decreased and I struggled to make fewer things fit one last time. By 9:30pm I was almost finished and joined Lydia, Kirsti, Heike, Sarah, and Lionel by the fire for one last night. We enjoyed glasses of Amarula, vodka jello, and popcorn. Compared to other send-offs it was much quieter, it was perfect. Lydia, Kirsti, and I managed to stay up until 1:30am discussing the past weeks, elephants, school, relationships, the whole works. By the time we called it a night I was struggling to keep my eyes open. After getting ready for bed, I found Tiny in my room, already curled up at the foot of my bed. The last sleep I had at the Loose Mongoose was dreamless.

I was expecting my transport to arrive at 8:15am yesterday morning to take me to Joburg. I was up at 7:00am to shower, make breakfast, and finish packing. Heike was going to drive me to the front gates of the reserve to meet the transport. At 8:25am I had loaded all my things into the Ele-truck and was ready to say goodbye to everyone. Finally being the person to say goodbye was strange. I had been at the Loose long enough to have said goodbye to numerous amounts of people; being left behind has turned out to be incredibly different from leaving someone behind. I said goodbye to Tula and apologized for causing so much havoc, gave everyone a hug, and before anyone (including myself) got too emotional, I headed for the Ele-truck and hopped in. The transport vehicles pulled up at 8:35am and none other than Eva came hurdling around the front of the vehicle. The transport had been travelling from Mozambique and was picking me up on the way to Joburg. I said goodbye to Heike and told her that I would be seeing her again, I didn’t lie. I may have found my calling here and hopefully will make it back someday.

The first three hours of the drive went by quickly. Eva and I caught each other up on the things that had been happening in Mozie and the PGR. It was nice to see a familiar face and we arranged to stay in the same hotel together. By 5:00pm we had finally made it to Joburg and spent a few hours at the airport exchanging money and waiting for a shuttle to pick us up. By the time we made it to the hotel Eva and I were exhausted. We had a quick dinner and enjoyed a drink at the bar before heading back to our room for the night. The room I am staying in now is larger than the one before and is even equip with a bath. If I can manage to find bubble bath in town today I have found something to do tonight when Eva has left for home.

So many things have happened in the last eight weeks; going home seems like an odd concept. I know that life has carried on at home while I have been away and will continue on as normal when I get home. South Africa will become a memory and will be represented by the images I have managed to capture in photographs and the stories and people I will never forget.