Wednesday, September 3, 2008

night noises and morning spoor




When you sleep in the bush in Africa, you seldom sleep through the night. There's nothing quite like being woken by lion voices vibrating through your blood. Or the bellow of some beast giving its last to teeth and claws. The scuffle of a chase right through camp, right past the thin grass walls that you're sleeping behind. Hyena sirens streaking your dreams with colour. The slow soft breath of an elephant, metres away from your head.

Sometimes, its the silence that wakes you. Its so rare to have utter silence, it usually signals some drama about to unfurl. Like when there's a lunar eclipse - the deep darkness and silence that creeps across the bush for a few long minutes while everything holds its breath, even the insects that I used to think were stars singing. Truly soul awakening stuff.

Luwi camp, one of my favourite spots on earth. Waking in the morning, and last nights mopane coals are still alive in their grey jackets of ash. The horizon is steely, before the ripening blush, and your breath is grainy smoke, fingers cold but before you clutch a handful of warm air at the fire, you must walk around camp and look for spoor. That's footprints, for those of you who don't know. Signs of the drama of the night.

When we was kids, my sister and I, it was daily routine. Bonkar would show us the perfect pugs marks on silty riverine sand and we had to identify - porcupine, honey badger, civet. We got good at it. We learned how to fake them, even, to make our own. We could read the map of an elephant footprint, outside the house at night, in between the toys that we had left out the night before. Never a single toy trodden on, mind you. Those eles just pick their way through. And yes, one thrilling morning there were lion prints in the sandpit where we played.

As I sat at my desk this morning I realised - I'm still doing this. Treading through blogland with my morning coffee, looking for the signs of the night. Ah, good, Janelle's feeling better. Miranda has a clutch of friendly comments. Ooh, look who came past my front door. Now, which of my cross continental facebook friends have left tracks in my inbox, or pissed on my wall?

I guess we're all just territorial beasts at heart.

11 comments:

Reya Mellicker said...

I can't imagine your life, but I am so very grateful you're willing to share it with your readers.

Blogs as footprints. Wow. Thank you!

Miranda said...

Ha! Love it. And so very true...

Miranda said...

And my GOD that's a big lion footprint!

tam said...

I know! Thanks to Freya for all her lovely Valley pics that she gave me. Dunno whose hand that is. The print, apparently is from one of the Weaver pride. Dunno why they're called that either.

Reya - you'll have to come and spend some nights in the bush, its the only way you can really feel it. But yeah, blogging is a bit like following spoor, tracking...

Chimera said...

Ah you are inspiring in your metaphors! Have coffee and wandering through blogland myself this morning.. Dennis the only creature to leave spoor outside....
T
p.s. entirely agree with you about the shrieky Palin woman. All that highly strung hypocracy..surely not really safe..

Janelle said...

ah. miss those luwi nights. man. and i think i recognize that hand...maybe??? xx janelle

Val said...

pad pad pad breathe breath pad pad ...... just me checking in xx

Janelle said...

it looks like ed's hand?? or jake's? ask freya man! its a familiar hand...xxx janelle

Freya said...

Slightly wrong on that. The hand belongs to an 18 yr old boy named Will Weaver...the lion is from the Chamilandu pride. Sorry to disappoint janelle, definitely NOT familiar.

Yes, also miss those Luwi nights. Can smell the mopani smoke now...

Deb said...

For someone who has lived in New England for her whole life and who has traveled very little, your blog allows me to 'experience' a whole different world. We have coyotes who hang around our woods -and scare me when they all start howling in the middle of the night. Time for me to exit and leave my spoor at some other campfires ;)

tam said...

Thanks for all your spoor & scent markings girls...
Freya, I see i got it completely wrong...Weaver safari not weaver pride. duh. ok.
Deb, let those coyotes cries in... good for the spirit to remember where you really belong in the foodchain!
Janelle. Definitely time for a week away SOMEWHERE...