Romancing the Rain in Botswana

by Alison Westwood, 1 December 2005

Flying over Botswana can give you the shivers. Endless expanses of dust and dry trees are bisected by roads that run perfectly straight for hundreds of miles (there's nothing to get in the way), eventually disappearing into heat haze. If you come from a temperate climate, the sight can be daunting.

Waiting for rain

I arrived in the Okavango Delta at the end of the dry season. The waters were not yet at their lowest, but the mokoros, the canoes the people use to get around the maze of waterways, were scraping on the bottom of the sandy riverbed at certain points.

The Delta's miraculous existence in the middle of a desert is helped by the fact that it receives water from two sources: rain over the Delta itself, and rain in Angola which sends floodwaters down to the Delta.

The rains in Angola had already fallen, but it would take them another six months to reach the Delta. What the Okavango was waiting for now, rather breathlessly and very noisily in the case of the birds, was the rain that was due to fall any day.

The Birds Sing a Rain Song

I think the birds were singing a rain song. The swamp boubous kept up a two-part duet: the male sounding like a scooter trying to start, the female cutting him off with a long whistle.

Coucals sobbed mournfully, their watery call a herald of rain. I even heard a species of bird that has miraculously developed a call exactly like a car alarm, presumably without ever hearing one.

As our guide silently poled the mokoro through narrow channels of reeds and papyrus, the clouds gathered impressively, dampening the sunset. A fish eagle perched in a tree seemed more interested in watching the sky than his larder. His call was imperious.

A Different Perspective on Rain

In the middle of the night I heard hesitant small feet on the roof of my tent. Then the soft footfalls became a stampede, accompanied by distant rolls of thunder. The rains had come to the Okavango.

The next morning it was still raining. Everyone was absolutely delighted. The camp staff were all smiles as they sloshed through the puddles the paths had become.

'Pula', the Tswana word for rain, is also the name of Botswana's currency. That's how much they appreciate rain in Botswana.

If you come from a rainy country and you're absolutely sick of the stuff, it could be a good idea to visit Botswana to get a different perspective on rain, or simply to escape it completely. It doesn't come often.

Sweet Air & Green Grass

When it does rain the effects are instant. The dust is washed out of the air, leaving it smelling sweet and full of wild sage. The grasses turn from golden to green and water lilies break into blossom.

The birds go beserk because the freshly-laundered air is now full of insects, including thousands upon thousands of flying ants. These are actually winged termites out on a date to find a mate to start a new mound with.

The Humble Termite

Termite mounds are integral to the formation of the Delta. They're one of the main ways islands are formed. Termite mounds, which develop when the water levels are low, sometimes stick out above the water when the floods return. Birds perch on them and seeds take hold, fertilised by guano.

Eventually, the trees and shrubs that grow on the termite mounds enlarge the fledgling islands and raise the level of the ground.

Termites not only shape the Delta, they mean food and shelter for animals like warthogs that sometimes excavate old termite mounds and use them as burrows. Apparently termite mounds can also make a mean pizza oven.

One old Botswana safari hand described in detail for me how tasty winged termites are fried in a bit of butter and seasoned with salt and pepper. I was happy to take his word for it.

It's impossible to view termites as pests here, the way you would at home. As with the rain, Botswana has a way of turning normal values on their heads.

A New Lease on Life

When the rain stopped a little later, sinking quickly into the sandy soil, we went for a game drive in the Moremi Game Reserve. We were lucky enough to see the first baby impala of the season. It had been born just a few minutes before, and although it was shaky on its legs, it could already walk.

With a quiver of inspiration, it co-ordinated all four limbs and dashed after its mother. Over the next few days all the other pregnant impalas would give birth en masse, providing safety in numbers and taking advantage of the sweet new shoots.

The cool air and cloudy skies prompted several hippo to come out of the water for an evening promenade. A hippo on land is a fairly unusual sight, but we saw 5 hippos ambling heftily around in the long grass, like heavy black storm clouds that had dropped out of the sky.

Blacksmith plovers watched them with beady eyes from the tops of termite mounds. They called to each other with a metallic 'chink chink chink' that sounds like a hammer on an anvil and gave them their name.

The Lioness and the Lechwe

Rain in the wilderness often has another quite dramatic and thrilling effect. The constant susurration of water on the ground dampens other sounds and makes it easier for predators to stalk their prey.

As the sun dipped below the clouds again, giving the landscape a golden tinge, we came upon a lioness enjoying a leisurely dinner of red lechwe all to herself. From all the lip smacking and bone crunching, we could tell that lechwe steak must be very good indeed.

Just a short and slightly bumpy flight away from the Moremi Game Reserve and the lush green waterways of the Okavango Delta, there's a legendary group of lions who don't need any help to catch supper. The Savuti pride is nearly 30-strong and regularly takes down elephant.

The Elephant-Eaters

Evidence of their elephant-hunting activities was lying next to a small half-dry waterhole, attended by a couple of hooded vultures. A baby elephant had been unlucky enough to form part of a training exercise that the Savuti lions were giving their cubs.

The carcass had been left for the vultures and hyenas to pick over. It was a harsh lesson for a little elephant in one of the most pitiless places in Africa.

Savuti is a place of skulls and bones, a world apart from the easy life of the Okavango. Here the waterholes dry up and the animals only survive because people keep pumping water into a few of them. The Savuti Channel, the river that used to run through the area, last flowed 23 years ago. No-one knows when it will flow again.

The Savuti Swamp is now a swamp only in name. In reality it's a sea of golden grass, haunted by the skeletons of trees that died when the marsh flooded way back in the 50s.

There's Always Something Happening in Savuti

Despite this, the Savuti area of Chobe is alive with animals and birds. In fact, it boasts one of the highest concentrations of wildlife in Africa. If you allow yourself some time, you can see just about everything and there's always something happening.

Gangs of bull elephants mosey around shrinking waterholes, jostling and drinking, missing only motorbikes to complete the picture of boisterous male bonding. Roan antelope roam, warthogs roll in beautifying black mud, ostrich chase each other hysterically across the plains for no apparent reason, vultures huddle ghoulishly over carcasses, bat-eared foxes sit quietly listening to the screaming cicadas. And they all wait for the rain.

Thunder and Lightning

The rain in Savuti usually comes when the sun goes down. We sat watching a pride of 5 lions by the waterhole as the sun struggled through the gathering storm clouds, turning them shades of slate and vermillion.

The lions were trying to look nonchalant about being uninvited guests in the formidable Savuti pride's territory. Electricity was in the air, but it wasn't just the prospect of a clash between lion prides - flashes illuminated the sky and a lightening storm began.

As we raced across the plains back to our camp, I held my hand out to catch the first raindrop. By the morning everything was dry again and the sky was sparkling blue. But the air was cool and fresh, new shoots were already sprouting and Savuti, like the Okavango, was celebrating.

Article © Copyright 2005 Go2Africa.

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