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Africa|Defence|Service
Africa|Defence|Service
africa|defence|service

Okavango adventures

26th May 2023

By: Terry Mackenzie-hoy

     

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I’m two years younger than my brother; however, because of the arrangement that existed at the time, I went to school one year after him instead of two years. This, in turn, meant I was young, compared with my classmates. This was an advantage in some ways because I learned more things more rapidly than my classmates, but a disadvantage because I wasn’t as advanced as they were. However, such as it was, there I was, young for my class.

When I was at school, South Africa had a regulation whereby after school you were called up for up to two years’ mandatory service in the defence force. However, you could only go to the defence force if you were 18 years or older. What this meant was, being 16 years when I left school, I could not go to the defence force. Consequently, I went to university and, in theory, I would be finished with university four years after I left school. But this, in turn, meant (because I had obtained a degree from university) that I became an officer in the defence force.

However, it wasn’t entirely like that. For me, university was quite a tough experience. For various reasons, I had to make my own way and find my own means of supporting myself while going to university, which was difficult, compared with the average student, who had a great time consisting of drinking, partying and generally messing around – so much so that by the time I got to my third year I had had enough. It so happened that my friend Jack asked if I’d like to go with him to the Okavango swamps for a trip. I would help him out by carrying stuff around and showing the passengers of his aeroplane various locations in the Okavango swamps.

It’s not a trip that comes your way easily and I was very grateful to go with Jack. The Okavango swamps were wild indeed and accommodation was in tents, and we were located among all sorts of wild animals which, for a young man, was really exciting – so exciting, in fact, that I decided at the end of our visit to ask the owner of the camp we had been staying at if I could stay there for some period. He said, “No problem!” He couldn’t pay me, but I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted, if I put in an active working day.

The work was not as relaxed as it sounds. I had to get up at 06:00 and be ready at 07:00 to be available to take the guests around for their viewing of various wild animals. We then returned and had breakfast and went for further game viewing. The game was spread over the whole of the Okavango, which, in case you don’t know, is a large delta and is incredibly beautiful and wild.

All this occurred some 40 years ago. In the area that we were located, there was no civilisation as such, and a rifle was mandatory when travelling with the visitors. On one occasion on board the boat, we were attacked by a hippo. This is more complicated than it sounds. We were going from the delta into the main stream when I noticed a large wave coming towards us at some speed. It took a very short while to identify this as the track of a hippo, so I swung the boat back towards the delta – just in time for the back of the boat to be missed by the hippo trying to turn us into crushed remains. As fast as I could move the boat, we entered into the surrounding mangroves, and I shouted at all the visitors to get out of the boat. They all obeyed except for one courageous German, who I’m sure still tells the tale.

Besides being chased by hippos, we found that female lions would track us. They did this in an odd sort of way. If we drove, say 500 yards, the lions would follow us from behind and then wait. They would keep up their tracking until we got closer to the campsite. For some odd reason, they would then continue tracking us in the morning. I never fully worked out their purpose in doing this.

Six months after I had decided to stay, my girlfriend of the time tracked me down and persuaded me to go home, to leave behind this story which has lasted 40 years.

Edited by Martin Zhuwakinyu
Creamer Media Senior Deputy Editor

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