Safari So Good: A Most Romantic Evening

An indelible memory of Botswana was a mokoro ride in the dusk, slowly poling through the lily pads and high grass, the only sounds the dip of the polers pole moving through the water, and the grunts of hippos as we passed their usual watery pathway.

It would be called "punting" in England, but as that is a football term for me I prefer poling. Polers make their own poles, using a hard wood and smoothing it so it is comfortable in their hands. A small fork at the end prevents the pole from getting stuck in the sand. He or she (we saw old ladies punting with speed but without even a sound stands in the stern, placing his pole on the sandy bottom of the delta, then pushing the boatalong, before lifting the pole out of the water and starting again. There was some splashing, but not too much, and the cool water was welcome on our warm skin.

see the pole's wee forked end?

grasses on one side

papyrus on the other side

Hippos are such heavy creatures that they spend most of their time immersed in water. They look like they are swimming but are really walking along the sand mounds and bars that swell in teh water's currents. They are able to stay underwater for several minutes, and can also raise only their eyes and ears and nostrils above the water's surface to inspect. If someone gets too close they growl in a throaty huffy kind of way. Sometimes they open their great wide mouths to really let you know who is boss. Being herbavores, it would be easy to think that they are harmless, but they coexist with crocodiles, so nature has given them a wicked defense mechanism, a bite that can cut a lion in two. They also have a bit of a temper so have a reputation as being one of if not the most dangerous animal around, big cats included.

Once past their trail to land where they feed and sleep all night, looking like a pile of grey stones all piled together, they are quiet and we paddle further into the delta's lagoons and byways. There are lily flowers in bloom, large white beauties and a smaller variety our poler called "eyedrops". Birds fly past, on their way to nests and night feeding. Martin caught a fish with his bare hands (aided only by a net below the water's surface, which would serve as dinner for a poler or two.