By SJ Parsons
Shortlisted in the 2024 PureTravel Writing Competition
A deep rumble reverberated through the ground I lay on, pulsated through my body, and pounded in my chest before exploding in my ears. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Where the hell was I?
A few months ago, I’d been sat by my kitchen table with my daughter Gemma. “I’d like us to do a trip together,” she said, as we were discussing her 40th birthday. I took a second to digest the information. This wasn’t like my daughter. Crippling self-doubt and bouts of depression had tethered her to the security blanket of family and close friends for most of her adult life. Adventure hadn’t been on her radar. I held her gaze and crossed my fingers. “Sounds brilliant – what have you got in mind”. Growing stronger in the past few weeks, she had begun to open her mail and to get outside in her garden, tidying up the boarders and feeding the chickens. Anything that she wanted to do beyond a close family get-together would be a huge step forward.
“I’d like us to do this volunteer trip in Africa.” she said, flinging open the lid of her laptop to expose ‘Nakavango Conservation Programme: Victoria Falls and the Big Five’. I was astonished. My heart almost burst. I quickly regained my poise and took a look at the screen.
A glance told me that this trip could be remarkable. Volunteers were required to work on the reserve for a few hours a day in exchange for Game drives, a trip to the iconic Falls, 3 meals a day, purpose build accommodation and 2 nights camping in the Bush. It looked perfect and. we booked it that afternoon.
We’d arrived 10 days ago and had not been disappointed. The Volunteer Centre was inside the 2,500-hectare private game reserve in the UNESCO-protected area of one of southern Africa’s last wild places. The accommodation was built around a central open-air zone containing two huge dining tables, a kitchen (semi covered) and courtesy bar area with bright billowing hammocks and squidgy chairs. Just beyond this was a pool and a firepit. It was at this firepit that we sat together on our first night, Just the two of us, staring out at the African Bush, listening to its unfamiliar sounds, breathing deeply of its evocative air, and letting our surroundings ground us.
The next morning, we rose at 5:30 and ate cereal and eggs in the heavy wax and lined ponchos given to us by our field guides Hope and Griff. It was just beginning to get light when we loaded tools into the four-wheel drive vehicle and set off on our first game drive on the way to work at a local school.
After only 10 minutes of bouncing along the red dusty track, the sky had lightened, and we had our first sighting. An enormous Elephant was slowly crashing his way through the bush only feet from us. “If we see nothing else” breathed Gemma “that will be enough.”
But it didn’t take long before we rounded a bend in the track to see a pride of lions crossing leisurely some way in front of us. The matriarch waiting on the track, watching us, while the 3 younger lions crossed behind her.
We were jubilant by the time we crossed through the Zambezi reserve and into the Woodlands community in Hwange district on our way to the Masuwe Primary school. Giggling children on their way to classes, dressed in bright blue uniform, started to run as they saw us approaching, their feet pounding the track and creating clouds of dust that dangled in the air.
“The school serves 4 villages of 118 houses with just over 1,000 people.” Griff told us as we drove through the school gates. “There are 170 students aged from 5 to 14, and 6 teachers, including two volunteers. The villages and the school have no electricity.”
The children, as they arrived, were gathering quietly under the shade of a tree. Some of them have walked over an hour to get here in bare feet. Beyond the tree, three white, single story classroom blocks lead the way to what looked like a small staff house just beyond a traditional round structure built of mud walls and thatch roof that seemed to be used as shelter for the many chickens that were clucking about. To the right was a thriving vegetable garden and to the left, a row of small semi open toilets stood beside a young orchard. A single water source – a small tap on a metal pipe– stood almost upright in the dirt.
Our job today was to water the orchard and plant more saplings. It was hot, dirty but rewarding work. While we toiled, a small group of children came rushing through the school gates and hurried to the classrooms. I later found out that they’d been delayed as they had to wait for a group of lions to move off the track ahead of them.
When our task was completed, we were asked to wonder round the school and talk to the children. “It will help with their English” explained Hope, “and their social skills.”
Gemma and I walked together towards the first block where we were greeted by 12-year-old Moana who excitedly offered to show us around. She seemed entranced by Gemma’s dreadlocked hair and intrigued that we were mother and daughter. She grasped Gemma’s hand and led us into the first classroom. Most of the children (apart from Moana) were shy at first but soon opened up as we asked them to show us their work. In one classroom, a member of our volunteer group was giving a session on hygiene, in another, the teacher for the computer class was delivering the session using old reference books. “I teach them the theory” he explained shrugging off the lack of computers and electricity.
The final block was where the youngest children had their lessons. Today they were outside drawing faces in the dust with small twigs and repeating the words for eyes, nose, mouth. Their young female teacher left them to their drawings and came with us to the staff house. The house was made from sundried bricks and a corrugated roof. “Two teachers live in that house” she explained “but 4 of us have nowhere private to go so we sleep in the classrooms”. There were two further houses being built that were almost complete. “When these are finished, we will live here” she said proudly showing us inside one of the three roomed houses. “See, we will have an inside toilet “she beamed as she showed us the smallest room.
All too soon it was time to leave but before we reached the vehicle, we were captivated by singing coming from the orchard.
The music teacher struck a rhythm on a homemade djembe and some of the children were performing a singing and dancing routine. They were rehearsing for a competition and their routine was syncopated by the blow of a whistle. It was a beautiful spectacle. The teachers began swaying to the music too and all the children joined in the singing.
Their spirit is sensational.
As a fitting climax to an amazing first day, on the way back, we saw two more of the Big Five – Buffalo and the Black Rhinoceros. We were ecstatic.
In the evening the delicious food was augmented by a few cold beers and lively conversation. Gemma, although not very vocal, did stay up and seemed to be enjoying the company.
in the days that followed we saw Painted Dogs, Giraffes, Impala, Crocodiles, Hippos, Zebra, Baboons, Mongoose and Zimbabwe’s national animal – the Sable Antelope. Even the 6 am starts couldn’t dampen our spirits. We’d set off early, taking in game drives on the way to ‘work’ and be back mid-morning, setting out again at 4 pm and returning at 6:30 pm. The in-between times and weekends were spent lazing by the pool, reading, catching up with new friends or visiting the town and the iconic Victoria Falls.
As the days passed Gemma threw herself into these new experiences. Her smile, always genuine when present, grew wider and more frequent as she worked in the bush, learning new skills and developing new friendships.
Not every session involved work. We had weekly campouts on the reserve, and this was our second one.
I reached across the short expanse of tent between us and tapped Gemma’s shoulder. “Wake up.” She turned, stretched then gathered her long dreadlocks and moved them away from her face.
“What time is it?” she whispered into the dark.
“I don’t know but can you hear that?” Gemma sat up and we both stilled, listening to the strange grunt, bark noise.
“It sounds like a saw working its’ way through a tree trunk” she said.
Whatever was out there, we knew the drill. We had to remain quiet in our tent until we heard Griff, Hope or Phil (the Anti-poaching guy with the gun who we had chosen to camp next to last night) up and about stoking the fire.
We were straining to listen to the sounds when an overwhelming aroma wafted through the tent. “Popcorn?” Gemma wondered. I shrugged. Breakfast would be toast and eggs which we had loaded into the truck the previous day.
Eventually, the sound receded but the sweet buttery aroma lingered. We managed to get a little more sleep before Hope clattered the kettle on its stand over the embers of the fire at 5 am.
We’d slept in our clothes, supplemented with fleece onesies, which we peeled off before pulling on sturdy trainers, now covered in grime, and scuffed with buffalo shit. Stumbling out of the tent, we realised we were the first ones up.
“Good morning” called Hope. “come and look at this.” We followed him to the opposite side of the fire. “These are Leopard tracks,” he said, pointing to a compact paw print in the sand – a small pad surrounded by four tight little toes. We followed him and the tracks of the solitary Leopard as they meandered through the camp and began to head directly towards our tent. “Oh my gosh,” said Gemma “that must be what we heard in the night.”
“And that odd smell,” I remembered.
“Ah.” said Hope, leading us to the side of our tent and pointing the torch to a damp patch of scrub. “Leopard pee. It smells like popcorn.”
The realisation that we had been inches from the Leopard both thrilled and terrified me.
“Wow!” Gemma breathed “I can’t believe we’ve been so close to a Leopard. I know we didn’t see it but at least we heard it and smelt it. That’s amazing!”
I turned my head to hide my damp eyes. I was moved to have had some interaction with the last of our big five, but essentially, my emotions were for my daughter. I saw her shed the last remnants of insecurity and self-doubt in the bush that morning, as she followed Hope with more questions about the Leopard. Grabbing a cloth, I took the now hissing kettle from the embers and poured two mugs of tea as Gemma eagerly showed our new friends – now spilling out of their tents after hearing the excited chatter – the Leopard tracks. Sitting on a canvas chair by the fire, I sipped my morning cuppa and watched my daughter through a dusty orange light as the sun began its rise over Africa.
The journey had been long.
Photo by Hu Chen on Unsplash
