Chobe River Camp in Chobe National Park – WILD camping.

We left the Riverfront Hotel in Zambia when it was dark. We were wrapped up in jackets and hats as it was freezing. We drove past the dusty villages outside Livingstone, then after about an hour, we arrived at the border where Immigration proved quite a challenge. ‘Where is your form, why haven’t you filled in the form?’ Thank God for Bibi, who took all the new changes in his stride. ‘Just fill in the form, do as they say, don’t worry.’

Huge trucks lined the road, a ferry awaited our vehicle, but passengers had to go on a motor launch. After the tensions of passport control we finally boarded and we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of the Zambezi River. On our left was Zimbabwe, where I took a photo of an ant hill, on our right was Namibia, behind us was Zambia and ahead was glorious Botswana.

We had more queues for Immigration and struggles to get to the front of the line. All I can say is thank goodness again for Bibi. On my own I would still be standing there in a well-mannered way.

When he had collected ‘his flock’ we hurtled on our way, calling into supermarkets called Choppies and Spar (!) and then after half an hour of further driving he pulled over and reduced the pressure in the tyres. We would not be on tarmac for another 7 days. Only sandy tracks and deep potholes as we would soon find out. We had bought enough water to last and Bibi had bought the food for all our meals. He would not only be our driver but our cook as well.

I was also getting used to his bedtime stories. Last night in Zambia he told us that he had never tasted alcohol. He watched us all glug the beer and wine and he told us of how most of his classmates were now in a 6’deep hole in the ground. They had partied with drink and gone with women and now all had died of HIV/Aids. Botswana had been one of the worst countries affected by this pandemic and had seen the life expectancy fall from 65 to 35 years of age.

We entered the park and drove into deep wilderness. On our way we passed a pride of lions flat out under a tree, a mere stone’s throw from our vehicle.  They were dead to the world. Above them were vultures. There had been a serious kill. We photographed the sleeping beauties then drove on.

I did not really know what to expect. I think I had ideas of a compound or something with a fence around, a fire and a guard. Not so. We had trees and bushes and Bibi, who was not armed. We also had two camp retainers call Kreetcher and Matcher, who erected the tents and set everything out, and dug the ‘long drop’ toilets (that were not that long to be truthful). This was WILD camping. No barriers between ‘them’ and our camp comprising little tents in a semi circle, a dining table laid out under an awning, two loo tents and two ‘bucket shower’ tents. I hadn’t quite envisaged that it would be so BASIC.

As we were getting acquainted with our surroundings suddenly about thirty elephants marched passed. We all stood stock still. I looked at John and we both mouthed, ‘Oh my God!’

After the lunch that Bibi had cooked over a wood fire (tuna pasta and salad with cold meats and cheese) we settled into our tent and unpacked our sleeping bags.

At four we set off on our first game safari. Here in Chobe, the largest collection of elephants in Africa reside. There are about 35,000 and over the next few days we were going to see hundreds.

Bibi drove us down to the river and we viewed buffalo, goliath herons, and dainty impala darting through the grass;  as we photographed a very photogenic kudu,

the bushes rustled and out lumbered the largest bull elephant with three females in attendance. He looked at our truck, and instead of plodding on to the water where the egrets and hippos were wallowing he turned instead to us. He obviously had taken a dislike to our vehicle, maybe saw it as a threat so he came round to the driver’s side, his massive ears flared out and his trunk went out like a rigid pole. Bibi immediately revved his engine and reversed. He stopped. The elephant conceded the respect shown to him and continued on his way to the river. We were very scared, and rightly so. Bibi said he could have charged.

We drove around in search of the lions we had seen earlier but to no avail. The sun was setting, the dead trees were stark against the sky, the vultures were silhouetted on their branches.

Bibi drove one more time along the shore path when suddenly one of the men on our group called, ‘Stop! – behind us!’ And Bibi turned, Oh my God! A pride of lions ambled down and sat by our car. The cubs went ahead with one female and frolicked in the shallow water, the young male sat quiet and two females came out of the bush, obviously limping. Another female had a deep gash on her shoulder. It had been a serious encounter, Bibi thought. Either a buffalo or a male elephant.

Darkness fell and we sat around the campfire and drank beer. Above us were about a million stars and the fullest of moons. The planets were lined up. Venus was in line with Jupiter and immediately above Jupiter was Mars. Taurus was out and I saw a shooting star and naturally I wished.

Beyond the light of the campfire was the night – inky and intense and we were so tuned in to the noises:  squawking, shrieks, and a rustling.

Bibi instructed us about safety. He carried no guns, and if we should need to use the facilities in the night we should just go behind the tent, but first search the area with a flash light.

Later in our little cot beds, wrapped up in our sleeping bags we were horrified to suddenly hear the roar of a lion. We felt so vulnerable.

Then much later when John’s snores had joined all the other noises of the night at around 1 a.m., I so needed to visit the back of the tent. But then I heard a rustling outside, and something started to attack the bag of empty cans, then I heard the light tread of four feet pass by John’s side of the tent. No way was I going outside, flash light or not!

In the morning Bibi told us a honey badger and perhaps a jackal had been scavenging around. The morning safari revealed the honey badger in the flesh.

He is the cutest creature I have seen for a while. But – apparently not so. That sweet little creature is the only one that can bring down an elephant. It has a bite like a vice and the victim will just bleed to death. I do remember reading a book by Robert Ruark of the same name, where he described the honey badger:

‘There is a bloody brave little animal in Africa called the Honey Badger. It may be the meanest animal in the world. It kills for malice and for sport, and it does not go for the jugular – it goes straight for the groin. It has a lot in common with the modern American woman.’

• Alec Barr, hero of The Honey Badger

As we drove on we came across a huge migration of  buffalo, safe in  their numbers.

 In the afternoon John and I went on a river cruise on the Chobe River with Richard as our guide. The river was wide and beautiful, across from the shore is Namibia and in the centre is an island where elephants and hippos and crocs laze about.

Richard believed he was best friends with the elephants and he ran his boat upon the sand so he could observe a group of four more closely. Imagine my horror, my blood pressure and the adrenalin charge when a huge beast came towards us and started waving his trunk. He stood right beside the boat and proceeded to give us a personal show of all the tricks he could do with this amazing trunk.

He could jiggle it this way and that, swoosh water around, itch behind his ears, and suck half the river up for a good drink. After that performance he suddenly raised his ears to their maximum width and I became panicked, remembering last night, and had visions of us being crushed, capsized, bitten in half by hippos and demolished by crocs and I started to shake. But Richard laughed, ‘He’s like a good heart doctor isn’t he? Keeps the heart beating! Look how friendly he is, very relaxed, see how he is crossing his back legs?’ HA HA!

John snapped a pic of me and I of him, both of us strapped into life jackets and then I was so grateful when we heard the engine start and we were off.

We watched the elephants swim across to the island. They were like giant stepping stones. Not to mention the hippos, flat out like boulders.

Then Richard manoeuvred the boat around and we came across a lone buffalo, an elderly chap preferring not to live with the herd but to take his retirement easily and munch the soft river grasses.

Not only are the big cats his enemies but his very own immune system. He will eventually die of some infection, but as Richard said, ‘By living quietly, he has gained one more day on this wonderful earth.’

John photographed snake birds, cormorants and egrets, pied and malachite kingfishers, cranes and storks.

The birds were so prolific; our heads were snapping on their necks to keep up. The only time Richard was impatient was when we wanted to photograph the hippos on the shore. One huge mass of lard lay in the sunshine, and beside him lay a crocodile in perfect companionship. I could imagine some film by Disney with the two evil characters plotting and planning together. But beside the pair on land were four more in the water. Richard, like Bibi, said he couldn’t trust them at all. They were wily and would have us tipped in a minute. I was happy to hear the boat rev up.

On the way back to the camp we swung back along our stretch of river. The sun had set and a parade of elephants marched along in single file, with the baby getting in everyone’s way. Magical moments.

That night after dinner Bibi told us lion stories, of how they pad through the camps on occasion, but we were not to worry. He told us how they slice the belly of their dead prey and remove the intestines as that preserves the meat for a little longer. A need to know fact I feel.

John zipped us in securely. We lay listening to the sounds of the night and just before I slept I heard a great roar coming from behind the toilets. If I shut my eyes, I thought it will go away.