The Challenges of Hunting Flamingos.

Easter weekend. 

Sua Pans.

Sua Pans are these flat barren wastelands, deriving their name from the local word for salt. Salt is found on these pans, and nothing else. However, guide books amp up the thousands of bare square kilometers of salt pans for their ethereal danger. Adventure junkies beware: Thou shall not venture into the pans with out two 4 wheel drive vehicles. Or a GPS. Or 3 days supply of food and water more than what you plan. Because lets face it, if both cars in your party get stuck and your GPS runs out of batteries, it doesn't matter how many days supply of water you have- you are never finding your way back.

And did I mention- when there's been substantial rain, the pans fill up with a few inches of water. The water and salt then attract the world's largest concentration of- who would ever believe- FLAMINGOS!

So the Peace Corps Volunteers decide this is definitely the party place for Easter weekend. Let's have a "Burning Man Festival" and go camping on the edge of the pans. PCVs set it up- they built a giant inflammable man and bought hundreds dollars worth of steak and sausage. All we had to do was show up with tents and booze.

We met at the PCVs house in the town where the salt miners live, crammed into the back of a pickup, and drove out to the pan's edge. Driving in we saw some wildebeest and far, far into the 

horizon we noticed a white fuzzy line. What in the world? Yes, thousands upon thousands of flamingos!! Definitely a treat- rain was all but nonexistent this season and I was certainly not expecting this. While most people started setting up camp immediately, Sacha, Ashley and I wanted to explore a little bit. We're only here once- YOLO, right?

The three of us start walking towards "the horizon." There really aren't any landmarks. The ground starts as dry, cracked mud. Which slowly gives way to soggy, gooey mud (ideal for 

moonwalking). Which eventually turned into shallow water as we approached the birds. Their tracks were everywhere- millions upon millions of flamingo footprints and hot pink feathers scattered the mud. We walked for over an hour into the pans, leaving behind deep footprints that we were confident would lead the way back to camp. After all, we'd read the books. Getting lost and becoming a Sua Pan Statistic didn't seem all that far-fetched. Compounding the excitement was the setting sun.

So not only were we "walking" (sliding? cross-country skiing without skis?) as fast as we could through thick mud to the flamingos before we were left in total darkness, but the gorgeous sunset in the sky was being reflected in the shallow water at our feet.

After what seemed like miles and two very sore calves into the trek, we finally saw them: THOUSANDS OF FEEDING FLAMINGOS! Nothing quite prepares you for that. The birds saw us coming (despite my brilliant idea for us to walk closely together so that we appear as one animal in lieu of three) and they stopped feeding, squared up to us, and extended their wings in an attempt to scare us off. 

Futile. Flamingos don't scare me.

So we continued our approach, and eventually scared the flock. Which wasn't a terrible thing- 

because it resulted in thousands of flamingos flying over our heads while the sun was setting. Words can't capture the beauty of the experience, and neither can photo nor video. I tried. I failed.

After that experience, we had to hustle back to camp before the sun dipped below the horizon. When we got back into cell phone range Jake had called me worrying about whether we were still alive. PCVs (while braiing up some steaks) were wondering if we'd make it back while the Batswana were telling stories of lost hikers. Seriously? Did they not think we knew what we were doing? We had sight of the camp and 3 sets of footprints and a flashlight to get back, but it was kind of cool knowing people were wondering if we'd survive. Not to mention people were upset they missed out on the experience and photos.

Who seriously chooses to set up a tent instead of going flamingo hunting?!

Another bonus: by the time we got back there were steaks waiting for us on the grill and the bonfire was almost prepared. We set the Burning Man aflame and enjoyed being the 4 Guinean refugees amongst the Botswana PCVs in their badass country. The night ended with a violent sandstorm that broke up the party, but when the sand stopped blowing and we could open our eyes again the lighting striking down onto the pan was yet another example of how big and powerful Nature is and made me thankful for having seen the Sua Pans in the raw.

Getting Wild in Shoshong

Shoshong, my village, is counted as one of the two "original" villages of Botswana. Ancient hills surrounding the village emmanate a sense of history and grandeur, and naturally I've wanted to explore. A while back Jake and I climbed a hill overlooking the village and it was great- but I wanted more. I wanted to play with a local. 

Perfect solution? Instead of sitting around doing nothing in my clinic with my "PMTCT team" I figured that time would be better spent spending the day exploring with them- and we could educate anyone we found in the bush on AIDS as we went. The team was down, and before I knew it me, my friend Smalls, and two girls set out into the bush.

I love hiking in chinos and a cardigan.

The hills give way to an old riverbed still strewn with rocks, and you find yourself in the gorge that must have been cut away millions of years ago by strong waters. We found a few waters sources, took a plethora of pictures, and stumbled into a herd of cattle. The guys tending the cattle were outraged when they saw me- "What are you doing here?!" They didn't believe me when I told them I lived in Shoshong, and they wanted nothing to do with a white person in this isolate and undiscovered spot. Rumors about developing a tourist site in Shoshong are rife, and they feared I was the first of the Sea Vomit to invade their privacy. The guy went on to say he lived in a cave four kilometers up the mountain and had never been to Shoshong, but that I was only allowed to come back to treat his illnesses (he thinks I'm a doctor). After a lot of unfriendly conversation in Setswana that I didn't need translated to understand, my friends and I turned around and started hiking back the way we came. Angry cattle farmer scared us off. 

Smalls and I decided we wanted to hike up one of the hills, which are actually just giant boulders stacked upon each other. We left the two girls at the bottom to wait and set off, hoping to be back in two hours time. Climbing up was a blast and the views were spectacular. Getting near the top, Smalls saw a small indentation on the rock filled with a tiny bit of water and goes "Kiki, I'm going to take a bath." I think he's joking, when he starts taking off his shirt. I think to myself "Dear God this boy is ridiculous, it's not like he hasn't showered before work this morning and I really don't want to see him in his underwear" but I laugh and say "okay I'll turn around." This guy (who has kids and a wifey) then proceeds to take off ALL his clothes on top of the mountain and tells me I can take pictures!!! Turned the opposite direction, I just yell at Smalls to enjoy his bath and that no, I am not taking naked photos of him on top of the mountain. (I got cajoled into taking PG ones)

Eventually his luxury bath comes to an end (and I'm not going to lie- I was a little jealous of his experience, especially since my house has had no water for two months and I needed the bath more than him) and we start descending the hill. We collect some medicinal herbs from the mountain that only grow out of this rock, found a few caves, and Smalls taught me how his ancestors used to run up the hills during times of battle and heave boulders down to crush their enemies. Getting the bottom my legs were shaky and the two girls went through our pictures ... and decided that they were jealous that Smalls vindicated himself on the mountaintop. They too wanted their shot at freedom. And before I know it Diana and Nkamu are hopping from rock to rock in their underwear, demanding a photo shoot. 

Who am I friends with? And why do they all like to run around without their clothes? 

These people are insane.

Anyways later on in the day I'm hanging around "town" and this mentally retarded guy that I love named John comes up. It was the first time I had my camera out and of course John was fascinated, so I decided to teach him to use it. John had a ball- and quickly mastered the point and shoot. He went all around the village taking pictures of EVERYTHING and EVERYONE. So I know have a few hundred pictures on my camera of close-ups of peoples faces (John never learned how to zoom, so he would stick the camera right into peoples faces. I love people with no inhibitions) and the reactions on peoples' faces are priceless. Some people pose, but most people in Shoshong look pissed off that this retarded boy is sticking a camera in their face. 

So between my friends running around without clothes in Shoshong Hills and angry people with watermelon on their heads, I have pictures that will forever leave me laughing about ridiculous times in Shoshong. It really is the best village in Botswana.

And for added entertainment. I love this guy: