One Tribe
Before
I left for Africa, I felt I was making so much random noise that I
forgot what the world even sounded like. It's hard to filter through the
egocentricity that inevitably surges when given the chance. It took
some time, as well, after landing in the bush of the Botswana
wilderness, to clear my head from the media driven news that I had been
trying so hard to avoid and ignore. My mind was continually plagued by
my own existence, whether existentially due to the political folly and
vapid cruelty that had been making ripples around the region, or from my
own feelings of inadequacy professionally and artistically.
In
Africa all was laid bare. Our journey began with a decision to freely
tell those that we encountered along the way that we lived in Israel,
something that we didn't totally permit ourselves while traveling in
Indonesia and Malaysia, due to the politics of religion. While traveling
in that part of the world, the locals that we did let in on our little
secret, regardless of their religion, were ignorant but sympathetic,
many of the fellow travelers we met tended to be ignorant and
unsympathetic, due to their reliance upon mass media for their roots to
gather sustenance from. This dynamic was not so different in Africa, but
after time in the bush our individual worlds began to meld, becoming a
"bush family, or tribe," as our Botswana bush guide, Eddie, stated in
our introduction to the bush.
As
processions of giraffes, elephants, and zebras crossed our tribal
caravan's path, the preconceptions and ignorance from all members of the
tribe began to slough away, including mine. There was that first night,
when, after trudging in and around our campsite smashing, eating, and
farting, an elephant pushed over an entire tree, thankfully in the right
direction, a few meters from our tents. This episode began the tribal
cohesion process; but, it wasn't until one member of the tribe, a young
woman on her honeymoon with her husband, spotted a leopard behind a
thicket that ultimately initiated us all. Together we witnessed
this leopard hunt, catch, kill, and eat a bird at very close range.
From that moment on we were forever connected by this one, collective,
bush experience.
And this
collective only increased its connectivity as an ever-increasing amount
of giraffes, elephants, and zebras crossed our nomadic route through the
bush, until we witnessed a tragedy of the wild, an elephant carcass
stinking alongside the road. It had died of anthrax poisoning, an
affliction that they can suffer from licking old bones, of which there
are plenty strewn about, bleaching in the sun. While we waited for one
of our younger tribesmen, sick from the smell and the bumpy ride, to
quietly relieve himself of his breakfast behind a bush, I noticed a game
camera chained to a tree in order to ensure the safety of the poor
creature's ivory tusks. The poachers in Chobe are ruthless and dangerous, coming
mostly from Namibia across the river; where, once with binoculars we
even witnessed a ranger (apparently) making a deal with a local, as the
local hacked into the tusks of another dead elephant with an axe and a
hacksaw.
The uncomfortable
beginnings of our adventure into the wild, coming from separate and even
opposing world views, had disappeared completely, having experienced,
together, such a foreign and wild environment. Through our collective
experiences in the bosom of nature, we had become one tribe, separate
from the rest of the world. However, it was still apparent that our
leader, the chieftain of our nomadic bush tribe, Eddie, was still only a
guide for ecotourists... until just before dusk one evening, late in
our journey together. It started, as usual, with a procession of zebras
crossing our path. Then a large dust cloud was spotted ahead (we found
out later it was from stampeding Cape buffalo).
Eddie
told us to sit down and then hit the gas. We flew down the bumpy dirt
road until we came to an abrupt stop, dust flying everywhere, and out of
nowhere a pride of nine lions trotted down from the hillside right in
front of us, cubs and all. The large male was missing, most likely
guarding a kill they had made, since their bellies were so fat that the
cub's bellies were almost dragging across the ground.Our entire tribe was shocked into silence, accept our guide, who began to explain to us some of the dynamics of a pride of lions, and that they were probably headed for a watering hole. We were sitting in an open vehicle, with no roof and no sides, but the lions paid no attention to us as they moved through, as if we were inert and unappetizing. After they passed our tribal vehicle took off down the hill, four-wheeling right up close to the watering hole, and we watched...
We were all flabbergasted, except for our leader, who looked quite
pleased with himself for giving his guests a really good lion sighting,
until we noticed one of the lionesses stalking up the hill away from
the watering hole. Then something screamed and a quick dark spot began
to bounce around, running wildly into another lion at every turn. It was
a baboon that had been caught in the tall grass next to the watering
hole with no trees to escape into, screaming for help from his
friends... help that could never come. That was the moment that our
guide joined the tribe he had created, muttering to himself, over and
over, "Oh my god, oh my god...Oh my god..."
We
all watched in fascination, and in horror, for as long as we could, but
the light was fading and we had to depart back to our campsite, a ten
minute drive into the night. Later, while zipped into our sleeping bags,
zipped into our little dome tents that were sparsely scattered about,
listening to the roar of lions, the baying of hyenas, and the crunching
of elephants, even though we had finally become a tribe of nomadic bush
people, we trembled and dreamt of a larger world, full of darkness and
full of wonder. In the African bush, our ragtag group of way-fairing
tourists and one time idealists of the ego finally had arrived at
perfection. We were One.
Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tova!
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