I'm sitting on a canvas chair in front of the ashes of last night's fire. Off to the right, not so far from camp, the vultures are circling over a dead giraffe. My hair is still damp from the shower I just took, water trickling from a canvas bag slung up over a tree branch.
You're probably already getting tired of hearing me say this, but I can't believe this is my life.
This part of the trip has been the biggest adventure so far, since I had no idea what to expect. We were originally supposed to be staying at a lodge just outside the park, but they had overbooked, and so our travel agent substituted the trip we're on now. Mark, we owe you one.
It started with a mid-morning cruise on the Chobe River between Botswana and Namibia after which we had lunch at the Safari Lodge, a place far too posh for the four of us. We climbed into an open safari Land Cruiser and headed into the park where we met the other people staying at our campsite and went on a sunset game drive. This morning, we were up with the dawn for another drive, and we're just relaxing now before we head out again.
Those are the facts, the bare bones of what we've done. What we've experienced is so much more.
I watched a herd of bachelor elephants, sixteen of them, cross slowly over the river to the greener grass on the island. The smallest ones used their trunks as snorkels, just their eyes and the tip of their long noses visible above the water. When they stepped out onto the land, their wrinkled skin was two-toned, like they'd been half-dipped in dark paint.
I saw a baby hippo throw his mouth open, showing all his teeth while his mama looked on indulgently.
I saw zebras, far off across a plain and right near my car, shy and frightened, darting away through the bush.
I watched a leopard lie languidly along a tree branch, fur like velvet in the late-afternoon light.
I held my breath as out car was surrounded by elephants, one fierce mama flapping her ears at us as her baby scuttled for cover under her body.
I looked out across a wide open island where elephants, giraffes, zebras, impala, warthogs, baboons and water buffalo all shared space under the light of a setting sun.
I saw two giraffes fight, their movements graceful, almost in slow motion as they intertwined their necks and butted each other with their furry horns.
I laid awake at night, listening to hyenas scream as they fought over the body of the dead giraffe, not a kilometer away from our camp, their laughter maniacal in the darkness. I saw them in the morning, slinking around in the cold grey light, ugly as sin.
I locked eyes with a lioness, no more than ten feet from my car.
I watched a baby baboon, no more than a couple of weeks old, sitting in the shade of his mama's body, sucking his thumb and looking for all the world like a little old man.
I watched the setting sun sink behind the long neck of a giraffe as the rest of the journey bent forward to drink from the river.I tracked a male lion through the cold morning, holding my breath as he stalked past our car, his mane golden in the sun.
I heard a herd of impala gather and make short barking sounds to warn off a leopard who was slinking through the trees, not daring to come too close in the face of such an overwhelming crowd.
How have I been blessed like this? I'm sitting here in the middle of the bush and all I can hear is birds chirping and the wind rustling in the leaves. This morning as I brushed my teeth, a herd of kudu walked slowly past, and just a few minutes before that I heard the low rumbling of an elephant calling to his friends.
I'm overwhelmed by creation. God, it seems, spared no expense when He created this part of the world. The animals and birds are so incredibly varied and vibrant, the landscape stunning in its beauty.
The thing is, all this would exist whether I was here to see it or not. For as long as I'll be on this earth, and, I should imagine, quite a while after that, the world will be filled with breathtaking beauty.
I plan to bear witness to as much of it as I possibly can.
