African Literature

While earning a bachelor’s and master’s degree in English, I was only exposed to one work of African literature: Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. Over the past ten years, I have read a great many non-fiction works, but not as many pieces of fiction as I would like. It looks as if I will have the opportunity though since Rutgers Camden is offering a course in the spring entitled South African Literature. The professor, Tyler Hoffman, will also lead a trip to South Africa in March. While I won’t be able to make the trip, I am hoping to take the course. I already have a copy of the syllabus and am researching the authors. One of my resources I am using is The Companion to African Literatures by Douglas Killiam and Ruth Rowe (2000). I would love to teach a world literature course at my high school and devote a unit to African literature. Students need to read more than just British literature.

African Shower

The first shower I took in Africa was at the Drifters Inn in Johannesburg. The tiles were made of African slate, and I loved the look so much that I had my friend tile my shower in a similar fashion. Now, twice I day, as the steamy water washes over me, I imagine that I have just arrived in Johannesburg and am about to embark on a new adventure.

My most African romantic shower was in the Delta in Botswana. We didn’t get to camp until late so our guide heated water at the campfire and filled a bucket strung up to a tree. We showered by candlelight while friendly brown mice ran at our feet.

On another occasion in the Delta, while taking a bush shower during the day, I had warthogs watching. I wasn’t frightened, just a bit self-conscious. Because there were thirteen others people who had to shower, we had to conserve water. The best way to do that was to get wet, then turn the water off, soap up, then rinse.

I enjoyed my most deluxe shower while staying at a luxury safari lodge. The walls were clear, and I showered while baboons and impala frolicked outside. I also had the option of bathing in a sunken tub that also had a huge window overlooking the bush. Fortunately, I was an invited guest and wasn’t paying the $1,100 a night price tag for such decadence.

The longest I’ve gone in Africa without a shower is three days. I was camping in the Serengeti in remote areas without facilities. What sounds like a horrific experience actually wasn’t so bad. We could still brush our teeth and freshen up with economy sized containers of Wet Naps. Ironically, when we finally reached a proper camp, I chose to relax at the bar while most of the others ran to take a shower. I figured the cold shower could wait until after I enjoyed a cold beer.

Crocodiles

I was in Egypt in July when this photo was taken. These two crocodiles--the one I'm holding and the one on my hat--are the only carnivores I saw on my whole trip. I tipped a local at one of the ruins a few dollars for the the priviledge of holding one. It actually wasn't my first time. In 1998, while on a crocodile farm in Southern Africa, I held one a bit smaller who was much stronger. I could barely hold its snout closed, which made me wonder if my Nile buddy was drugged to ensure his docility. While canoeing on the Zambezi River, I've seen many crocodiles along the banks, big boys too, but on the Nile, they are virtually extinct. Many of the passengers on my Nile cruise looked frantically for a siting, but to no avail. I must admit that it is an incredible rush to see one in the wild while paddling within 20 feet of them in a canoe just inches from the surface of the water. It's even more exhilerating (or frightening) on the rare occasions that one must walk in water that I knew contained these creatures.

African Safari Photo of the Day

Under I Google gadgets, I added the African Safari Photo of the Day. Now when I turn my computer on in the morning, the first image I see is of Africa. The visual imagery gives me the courage to face the stresses of daily life. It's also a reminder that there is a wild, beautiful place that is just nine months away. I considered a nine-day jaunt at Christmas, but I couldn't rationalize the $2,500 airfare for such a short stay. Being able to enjoy another three or four weeks in the bush will be worth the wait.

Coffee in the African Bush

Who doesn’t cherish a hot cup of coffee in the morning, especially on a Sunday? I certainly do, and I have never enjoyed one so much as I have in Africa. While on camping safari, I wake in my tent to the sound of the tour guide pulling out a coffee pot from the truck-- the unofficial alarm clock. I lay in my sleeping bag listening to the sounds of the Carmen Bee eaters before stuffing my sleeping bag and deflating my mattress. I slip on the clothes that I have laid out on my duffel bag. After putting the tent down, with the assistance of my tent mate, I walk to the circle of khaki chairs that served as a barrier against the African night. Maybe there were hyenas lurking about, maybe elephants so softly trodden. The remnants of last night’s fire are reduced to ash. As I drink my steaming coffee out of a tin mug, the other campers join me. We later eat cereal from the same mug before washing them and driving off on the dusty, bush road.

African Healing Dance

I certainly don’t kill myself going to the gym, but I do try to exercise when I can. When I’m at the gym, I enjoy lifting weights, doing yoga, and swimming. I also like walking, rollerblading and biking. Sometimes I even pop a Pilates tape into the DVD player at home. While browsing through the DVDs at the library, I found another exercise tape that I want to try—African Healing Dance. The host is the lead dancer of the Damballa dance troupe who demonstrates traditional African dances. Supposedly, it is supposed to improve my physical and emotional well-being. I don’t see how I can go wrong since the woman looks fantastic in her traditional skirt and halter. I might even wear the same since I brought some African cloth home on a previous trip. I can’t see myself having her rhythm though, but who will know if I do it in the privacy of my own home? I’m going to make sure that I draw the blinds. What would the neighbors think?

Malaria

Ten years ago, while on an overland safari, one of the girls in my group came down with malaria. She was a Norwegian aerobics instructor in her twenties. Watching how the sickness affected her made me fear getting malaria myself. I have never been infected, but I always take precautions when I am there. I take malaria tablets, spray myself with the strongest DEET there is and keep covered during dawn and dusk. Unfortunately, many Africans do not have access to these live-saving resources. According to a study conducted in 2002 that was reported on the Global Health web site, over one million Africans die each year from malaria. I recently rented a DVD called Africa Live: The Roll Back Malaria Concert (2005). The two-day concert’s goal was not only to entertain the 50,000 who came to view the African musicians in Dakar, Senegal, but to also bring international attention to the issue. The festival featured a remarkable diversity of performers, but the message was what moved me most. Africans wanted desperately to help each other.