How Etosha Got Its Name - A Lesson In Following Our Daydreams

February 22, 2023 Posted in Travel / The Honey Badger Diaries

Once upon a time, when pharaohs were building Pyramids, a guy called Noah from Goa (just kidding, Mesopotamia) got it into his head to build a ship. Why? The message in a daydream was clear. “A flood covering the whole earth is nigh. Build a ship, Noah!”

Noah proclaimed it would be made from Gopher wood (I kid you not). His family thought he might’ve got it wrong. The message probably was “GO FOR… Cedar”, but he was stubborn and adamant. Nothing wrong with his ears.

If he was an Arab trader, it could’ve been a dhow; if he was Pi, it might’ve been a large fishing boat with oars or, as was customary at the time, a ship using a thousand slaves to row it. Noah followed orders and didn’t build the Titanic. The long and short of it was he was determined to carry this task through. He became a man possessed.

The minute the Ark was complete, he herded his family onto the boat. He didn’t have the heart to leave the animals looking up at him all doe-eyed.

He was subsequently ordered to ensure he had a male and a female of all land animals on that boat. That was a tall order, but he did it in double quick time because the other thing he had to consider seriously was the flood. (there was no Nr.com App)

With his family’s and extended family’s help, they got the job done. The rains came and flooded the whole world. His mother always said "the sun will always shine Noah, but first you need rain."

Soon the waters rose, and the Ark shrugged off the stabilisers and scaffolding and floated off. Things went swimmingly until the fox got into the henhouse, the birds and the bees started giving advice, the tortoise and the hare used the deck as a race course, and the zebra and tiger started comparing stripes and the Jackal, never a peace keeper was egging them on.

Plain sailing this trip wasn’t because the rains didn’t cease, and pandemonium broke out. Close confinements and cabin fever. Boredom is the devil’s earpiece, and the snake didn’t need an apple to entice the Adams’ and Eves. While Noah slept (Fortunately, Rome was in deep water, so there were no fires), the couples were cosying up something terrible. Noah knew he had to pull a rabbit out the hat to sort his problems out.

The next minute birds were laying eggs, the cute Meerkats, Mongeese and rats as big as cats were all knocked up. Plans had to be made. The primates were out of control. They were swingers and social climbers, and he threw them off in Uganda. While sailing past Kilimanjaro, some birds, bees and bushbabies were set free. He dumped the crocodiles and hippopotami along the Nile so they could fend for themselves.

Guess who was building a yellow submarine? Indeed, the beetles, they thought forwarned, is forearmed. To teach them all a lesson he made the Dodos walk the plank, it was meant to be a prank and now they're history.

Eventually, green grass blades began to push through the fertile soil in the Serengeti. There he let the Wildebeest go. They’d wander in the never-ending figure of eight migratory paths. The chameleon was overjoyed yet envious.

In Zimbabwe, he let the Elephants who stood on their hind legs out, convinced they would keep their heads above water. They were impossible anyway. Sadly the Wild dog, too, because they were hunting everything under the sun. It was September, and their pups would leave the den, and Hwange would do the trick. He was sure they’d find their way home to Kruger and the Kgalagadi.

He noticed that every time he let a dove out the porthole, they’d not return. If truth be told, they were beginning to irritate him with their interminable Le-ta-ba, Le-ta-ba cries all day. Good riddance, he thought. “Go on, fly away home.”

There was always a clash between the Springboks and the Lions. The poor Hyenas couldn't mop up fast enough. Initially, he could cope with that. He was impartial to a point; secretly, he did have a favourite. He lost it when the infernal Springboks outwitted the Lions again just as they bobbed past Ellis Park. He swore he’d had enough and kicked them all into touch in the Karoo.

Phillipolis, he declared, would be the perfect place to ditch the Tigers. They were ferocious carnivores, and his stocks were low. He'd have to employ the vultures, who were circling to help. There they would learn how to walk softly on this earth.

Things were becoming much easier as the Ark turned without making a Kaapse draai (a turn in the Cape) and headed north. At one point, he realised the days were becoming hotter and drier, and the Elephant, Rhinoceros and Giraffe were still onboard. With a sigh of relief, he remembered Ellie’s gestation period was almost three years, but a Rhino’s a little less.

He had to tack this ship and make haste while he had water beneath him. The Kudu, Gemsbok and Roan antelope let the wind out of his sails when they up and left him just north of the Orange river. Disappointed, he watched them head into the dunes, which started appearing.

The high and mighty Ostriches could get lost, too; they’d kicked him in the teeth once too often. With their heads held high and not a backward glance, they did. Noah was worried. He wasn’t even going to mention the Honey Badgers… they took no @#$% and tried to escape by any means.

One morning while still in his hammock. enjoying his brew of weasel poo coffee, his brother burst into the captain’s cabin unannounced and told him that the laughing dove had returned with a sprig of acacia in its beak. “Very funny,” he thought. Perplexed, he threw on his kikkoy as they hurried onto the deck, grabbed hold of the railing, peered over the edge and lo and behold, there was a magnificent tree.

The birds were delighted and flew off in one huge cloud. Minutes later, they spotted the Secretary bird going off to his first meeting with Mrs Cori Bustard in hot pursuit.

Two days later, much to everyone’s astonishment, the Egyptian Geese were back, “bloody ducks in denial”, he told his brothers at sunset. Fortunately, he’d dropped the Common Mynas near the Drakensberg. Not a week later they heard a mighty roar. Guess who'd made it back to the Ark? Sylvester. Bruised and battered he lay watching the scene ready to pounce.

A lightning bolt struck them at once, and they realised they were a sinking ship. Not really. They were now sitting high and dry, like the camels—ships in the desert. That night they would be high as kites.

Surrounding their puddle of water was barren land, stony and inhospitable, they reckoned. Dumbfounded, Noah and his brothers lowered the rope ladders, set up the gangplank and shooed all the animals off the boat. Fortunately, they were accustomed to droughts and deserts. Within days they dismantled the ship and built a shelter next to the pond.

Then the most astonishing thing happened. Every afternoon, just before sunset and sunrise, the animals returned to the puddle for water, each species respectfully waiting their turn. In the following days, the same thing happened. Noah jumped for joy and announced that “from this day forth, it would be a watering hole.” His work was done.

He called his place Okaukuejo Camp. After all, he always told the Impala, “Ok, you queue here”, which became Okukuejo. Because his allergies went through the roof from the acacia tree’s pollen, he sneezed eeee-too-shoo, eventually becoming Etosha. Oh, and Ark became Park.. somewhere, something got lost in translation.

Noah was at the end of his tether and beginning to stutter like someone he knew from his previous life, but he couldn’t search for the guy’s name anymore; he’d broken his tablet.

At night, he’d lie in his kaross and watch the twinkling little stars and wonder how high they were or listen to the call of a Pearl Spotted Owlet or the mournful cry of a jackal. His favourite was listening for the stealthy approach of a Rhinoceros or the near-silent march of an Elephant.

Noah longed for home when the moon was a crescent and aligned with the evening star, representing the renewal of life and nature in the old country. His days were numbered for he knew he was not Methuselah. Yet joy filled his heart as he watched Daniel playing with his lion cub, or seeing him sit in the crook of the old tree daydreaming while plucking his Juice Harp, gave him hope that he would have the gift of interpreting his dreams in the future.

---oOo---

Part Two

To go or not to go to Etosha is not debatable. You go. At first, Butch was reluctant, but after reconsidering our options and routes he agreed. Our destination was Okukuejo rest camp with the world-renowned watering hole, where we’d stay for seven nights.

A few kilometres before the entrance gate to the Park, we stopped off at the lovely Farmstall, where we stocked up on a few treats and spoilt ourselves by indulging in a freshly baked homemade garage pie! Venison for Butch and Mutton curry for me.

To the gate, we made haste; we had no reservation. There we encountered our first taste of bureaucracy. At the entrance, the gate official refused to call the reception desk at the Okaukuejo campsite “because the two Ministries don’t communicate.” Besides, they didn’t have a phone at the gate, and she didn’t have airtime. She folded her arms across her ample bosom. We could enter the Park, pay the daily rate, find out and return if there was no vacancy. “Yes,” we were told solemnly, “all fresh meat from cloven-hoofed animals will be confiscated on your return.” Her hands were tied.

Frustrated, we returned to the Honey Badger and set about getting a signal to research telephone numbers etc. Before long, we were hooked up and roaming. The receptionist was far more accommodating and assured us there was plenty of space, and we could stay for as long as we liked.

After a quick registration, the friendly receptionist recalled speaking to us. We set off to set up our campsite on the fence. While we were setting up, we could see the elephant coming through to drink, giving us enough time to grab our cameras and a drink and hurry down to enjoy sundowners while they bathed and dust bathed.

The following day there was pandemonium at the gate. A leopard was watching a young rhino calf suspiciously. Fortunately, the rhino escaped, and the leopard, with his tail between his legs returned to his tree for some shut-eye.

Our days were spent in glorious bliss. We went off for early morning game drives, sat at waterholes, did recces around the Etosha pan, and lazed away the afternoons near the Honey Badger or the watering hole where there was always some action.

We’d wander down to the watering hole at five o’clock with our tripods, drinks and snacks. Seats were soon taken up, and sometimes lively conversations were struckup as we recalled our sightings. Still, we mostly listened to other visitors’ exciting experiences during the day.

When we’d seen enough or night descended, we’d return to light up our fire, watching the last golden rays as the sky turned purple, pink and red silhouetting giraffes who cautiously made their way down to the water’s edge.

Our lights would be out by ten when in the dark, Butch would read a new book on his Kindle, and I’ll watch one of my downloads from Showmax or Netflix.

Butch celebrated his birthday on the twelfth, and I had twelve blue balloons, Woolies carrot cake and a few pressies lined up for him. His big smile said it all, and his limited space had to make way for new socks, boxer shorts, bright orange swimming trunks and a T-shirt.

On the last day of our stay in the Park, we packed up early to head north so we could exit at the Namatoni gate.

The largest herds of Springbok, Zebra, rhinoes and wildebeest greeted us on our way out. We certainly ended our stay on a high note.

---oOo---

Fortunately, we could spend the night just a few kilometres outside the gate at the stunning Tamboti Luxury Campsite. The campsites are set out in a Mopani and indigenous forest. We spent the afternoon relaxing at the pool, enjoying the warm water, which was never the less refreshing.

For supper, we wandered down to the main homestead, the grande dame upgraded and now accommodating the reception, shop and restaurant, to sip our cocktails while waiting for the giraffe to come down to the watering hole.

Supper was a feast we didn’t have to cater for, and delicious. We were thoroughly relaxed and spent a few hours mingling with other guests. One couple returned to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary after being there on honeymoon.

A treat after our disappointing time at Okakeujo’s restaurant, where the staff were at sixes and sevens about the protocol governing drinks on the veranda. I was told to order in the bar; Butch was evicted from the bar by the Manageress, who insisted the barman apologise to Butch for hashing things up. The prices were astronomical, and a Sprite Zero cost a few Rand more than a beer.