AUGUST 27
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
I’m in Wyatt’s tent so that I can monitor him during the night. I wish I could report some good news, but unfortunately things are getting worse. It doesn’t seem like Tcori’s remedies did much for him, if anything at all. His temperature has been between 103 and 105 degrees for several hours and that’s no laughing matter as far as body temperature is concerned. If you have a high fever for a long period of time it can cause brain damage or worse and that’s got me scared. He’s sleeping right now, but just recently he had these crazy hallucinations and what I’m guessing was a seizure.
I feel like I’m in some kind of horror film. I mean, the things Wyatt’s been saying for the past few hours make absolutely no sense. Just a little while ago he was having a conversation with our grandfather … and he’s been dead for five years! It’s like he’s channeling the spirits or something. Then he freaked out thinking there were spiders crawling all over him, but there weren’t. I’ve never seen anything like it and I thought that he was losing his mind so I shook him and squeezed his arm and tried desperately to wake him from this weird dream state or whatever he was in, but he wouldn’t come to no matter what I did. It was like he was possessed.
As frightening as the hallucinations were, his seizure was downright horrifying. Out of nowhere his arms curled up and his neck muscles stiffened and he started making this awful noise like he was trying to clear his throat and he was twitching and his eyes started rolling back in his head.
“Stay with me, Wyatt!” I yelled. “Stay with me!”
In a panic, I ripped off my belt, folded it over, and shoved it between his teeth so he wouldn’t bite off his tongue. Forcing his mouth open with the belt seemed to clear his airway and right away he took these big, gasping breaths and kind of relaxed and within a few minutes he had fallen into a deep sleep. It probably lasted ten or fifteen seconds, tops, but it seemed like a hundred years and scared me so bad, I literally thought I was going to have a heart attack just watching him.
Jubjub is trying to reach my parents in the Kalahari and even though the situation is really bad I asked her to please downplay the whole thing a little, otherwise they are going to flip and like I said, there’s nothing they can do. She also radioed the hospital in Gaborone, but they can’t send a helicopter until morning. Jubjub is on standby and will update the hospital with Wyatt’s condition at 5:30 a.m. If he needs to be evacuated, they will send a chopper, which can be here within a couple hours, but I’m terrified he won’t even make it to morning. I mean, his breathing is all over the place. Sometimes his breaths are short and quick. Other times he won’t inhale for ten or fifteen seconds and whenever this happens I become terrified that I’m watching my brother die right before my eyes and it totally sends me into a panic and I hit him on the chest, smack his face, scream at him—anything to get him to breathe! Once he does, I collapse on the ground in relief.
It’s just crazy the way an illness puts your feelings for someone in perspective. There are days when Wyatt aggravates me so much I swear I could kill him, but now that he’s really in danger, I’d do anything to save him.
I can’t help but regret leaving our parents in the Kalahari to join Chocs and Tcori on this expedition. It was a terrible, terrible decision.
GANNON
4:47 AM
I’ve been up most of the night looking after Wyatt. He finally stopped fidgeting and calmed down a little while ago and slept. I’ve probably stuck my finger under his nose a thousand times to make sure he’s still breathing. No joke, when he’s just lying there all quiet and still, it looks like he’s dead! This whole ordeal is incredibly stressful and has probably taken ten years off my life, but it looks like he recently made a turn for the better.
About an hour ago, his face became red and splotchy and beaded up with sweat and he went on sweating for a good stretch and then the sweat stopped and his face returned to normal color. I felt his forehead and noticed it was much cooler. He was conscious for a few minutes and even able to answer questions with a simple nod or shake of the head. When I asked him if he felt any better, he actually nodded yes, which alone was a huge relief. Right now, he’s sleeping again.
More later …
GANNON
5:42 AM
Just before sunrise, Wyatt sat up and drank a half cup of tea and even said good morning when Chocs came into the tent. All these things may seem like really simple tasks, but they mark a gigantic improvement as far as Wyatt’s concerned. After all, just a few hours ago the kid was so incoherent he could hardly speak, so things are definitely looking up. Right away, Chocs noticed that I was about to fall facedown in the dirt from exhaustion, so he relieved me of my watch and ordered that I get some rest—an order I will gladly obey.
WYATT
AUGUST 27, 7:24 PM
OKAVANGO DELTA
15° CELSIUS, 59° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLOUDY, WIND 5-15 MPH
I write this journal entry seated beside a warm, crackling campfire. Writing takes a decent amount of mental energy, and I’m still feeling a little shaky, but the fact that I even want to write is proof that I am on the mend.
Yesterday when I started to feel bad, I got really worried and became desperate for something that would make me feel better, so I asked Tcori if the Bushmen had any natural remedies for a fever. Tcori assured me that they did and went about gathering roots and leaves from an assortment of shrubs. He boiled them all in a pot, put the steaming concoction inside my tent, and told me to take long, deep breaths. Other than clearing my nasal passages, I don’t know that this remedy did me any good. In fact, my headache actually got worse, and I became nauseated. Whether this was a result of the treatment or not is impossible to know. Not wanting to discredit Tcori’s traditional medicine or offend him in any way, I thanked him for going to such great lengths to help me.
After Tcori’s treatment, I slept for a while and remember waking up from time to time, feeling as miserable as I’ve ever felt in my life. Just before sunrise my fever broke and I woke in a sweat, but I felt much better. Chocs radioed Jubjub and let her know that my condition had improved. He felt I was on the road to recovery but asked Jubjub to keep the medical evacuation helicopter on alert, just in case.
I may not be completely out of the woods, but all signs are good. In other words, I think I will live to see another day. At times I had my doubts. From what I’ve been told, so did everyone else.
When I was shivering inside my tent, I was reminded of Missionary Travels in Southern Africa, by Dr. David Livingstone, a book I read before our trip. In his journals he describes a seven-month expedition from the Zambezi River to the west coast of Africa. During this expedition his crew experienced no fewer than thirty-one cases of fever, and by the time they reached the coast, most of the men had severe dysentery. Many years later, Dr. Livingstone himself died on an expedition in Zambia from internal bleeding caused by malaria and dysentery.
I suppose I’m just lucky that my illness was somehow cured. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? And I do feel stronger and plan to continue my research with a renewed spirit. As the famous naturalist Charles Darwin once wrote, “A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.” I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Darwin had jotted this down after being laid up in bed with the flu. That’s the irony of illness. It gives you a whole new appreciation for life.
Let the journey continue …
GANNON
8:52 PM
“Jubjub to Father. Come in Father. How is Wyatt?”
This was the radio call that woke me up mid-afternoon.
“Hello, Jubjub,” Chocs said. “He is doing much better. We plan to continue our search first thing tomorrow morning.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
“You can notify the hospital that we won’t be needing the helicopter. And please radio Wyatt’s parents to let them know that he is okay.”
“
I will let everyone know right away!”
Boy, I can’t even describe how relieved I was to hear this. Still totally wiped out from that awful experience, I stayed in my tent for a long time, just thinking about all the crazy stuff we’ve been through and enjoying the sound of everyone’s voices outside. When I finally came out, it was time to make dinner. But first I had to give Wyatt a solid punch in the arm for putting me through that whole, ridiculous ordeal.
“It’s good to see you, too,” he said.
“Next time you pull something like that,” I said, “I’m going to save myself the hassle and just feed you to the animals.”
I was starving and helped gather sticks for a fire, stopping for a short time to watch a herd of elephants move slowly across the horizon. They even had a baby with them who stayed close as they all lumbered through the grasses under a big red sky.
Over dinner we discussed our plan and I was thinking for sure that Wyatt would vote to call off the expedition and return to Edo’s Camp in the Kalahari. I mean, after being so sick it would have been totally understandable, but my brother is stubborn and wants to finish what we came to do.
So do I.
It’s dark and I’m sitting by the campfire. Tcori just carved a bow and several arrows from the tree branches he collected and placed them above the fire to cure and then smiled at me and vanished into the darkness.
I think I should hit the sack. I slept for a while today, but it was mostly broken and coming off several nights of very little sleep, I’m still exhausted. I just can’t seem to get my energy back. It’s like it has been sucked right out of me. Last night really rattled my nerves. I’m hoping that after tonight I’ll be all set with sleep and feel normal again. I’m hoping. In the morning, we resume our search.
GANNON
AUGUST 28
7:47 AM
Okay, it seems totally ridiculous now, but one of the animals I was anxious to see in Africa was a baboon. I’m not really sure why. I guess it was just something about them, like the way they go about their business as if no one else on earth matters. Before our trip, I saw a video that was pretty hilarious of a family barbeque in South Africa being ambushed by a bunch of baboons. The family shouted and threw things, but the baboons were determined. They kept coming back and eventually ran off the humans and just started stuffing their faces with ribs and potato salad and rolls and chocolate pies. Here’s something else I learned: Baboons don’t waste food. Not a morsel. They ate every last thing and even licked the plates clean.
Of course, the delta is baboon country, so you’d think that someone who had seen how they can ransack a good picnic would take steps to stash their food away in a safe place before they went to bed for the night. But no, after rummaging around for a late-night snack I left our food container open and sitting outside my tent. Total idiot move, I know. Sure enough, just as I was falling asleep, I heard a ruckus outside my tent. I then made the mistake of sticking my head through the tent door and found myself face-to-face with the king of all baboons—if, in fact, baboons have kings.
Not knowing what else to do, I said something like, “Hey there, big fella.” Well, he didn’t like that too much and took a hard swipe at my face with his little human-looking baboon hand. Luckily he missed, and I quickly disappeared back into my tent.
I could kick myself. I mean, come on. Where’s my brain? I broke one of the most basic rules of camping. You should always keep your food sealed in an animal-proof container, something that is airtight so animals can’t pick up the scent. I guess I was just so tired I forgot to put the top back on. Chocs made me feel a little better this morning when he said, “You’re lucky it was baboons that came for our food instead of hyenas. If it was hyenas, they would have eaten you, too.”
Now, I’m going to have to agree with Chocs on that one.
Hyena on the hunt for its next meal, luckily it wasn’t me
WYATT
AUGUST 28, 8:01 AM
OKAVANGO DELTA
12° CELSIUS, 53° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES PARTLY CLOUDY, WIND 5-10 MPH
I was told Gannon probably saved my life the other night when I had a seizure, but this morning I could kill him with my bare hands! Thanks to the dinner party he threw for the baboons, our food supply has been seriously diminished. If we hope to continue our mission, we’ll have to depend on Chocs and Tcori to find food on the delta. I’m hoping that won’t be a problem, as Tcori has lived off the land his entire life. But it will definitely slow our search for the lioness, as some of our time will now have to be spent finding food. It’s just one more obstacle we must overcome, but I suppose that’s the nature of adventure.
WYATT
AUGUST 28, 12:19 PM
OKAVANGO DELTA
26° CELSIUS, 79° FAHRENHEIT
GATHERING STORMS TO THE NORTH, WIND 15-20 MPH
As it turns out, the baboon debacle was not without its benefits. Since we had to clean up their mess, we were an hour or so behind schedule. If we’d left on time, it’s likely that we would not have crossed paths with the Cape buffalos!
Saying that we “crossed paths” is really misleading. It would be more accurate to say that we were surrounded by them. Having just passed through a stretch of woods, we noticed a dust cloud up ahead. We climbed up a small dune for a closer look and saw a herd of Cape buffalos stretching across the plains as far as we could see. Chocs estimated there were at least 500 buffalos, and suddenly, every one of them was staring right at us! Intimidating, and that’s putting it mildly.
My dad says Cape buffalos have a look that says, “Don’t mess with me, sucker!” and he’s right. They’re known to be one of the toughest and most aggressive animals in Africa. They kill more than a few humans each year and can even put up a fight against a lion.
I quickly snapped a few photos. But as the herd moved closer, I decided to put away the camera. I thought the sound of the camera’s shutter opening and closing might cause a stampede. At first, the herd was a little hesitant, but then they started to move around us. There was nowhere we could go, as this giant herd of buffalos stretched all the way across the horizon. We basically had to stand still and let them pass. As they did, one of the buffalos, a large male, took a few quick steps toward us and then stopped. It was as if he was reminding us that they were in charge. Not that we needed a reminder. We knew darn well.
Chocs and Tcori whispered to remain calm and not make any sudden movements.
“Cape buffalos are most aggressive when they are alone,” Chocs said, without moving a muscle. “That’s when predators take advantage and attack them. As a herd they feel safe, so they’re not likely to harm us as long as we keep quiet.”
Just then, Gannon whispered to Chocs.
“What if I feel a sneeze coming on?” he said.
“Do you feel one coming on?” Chocs asked.
“I think so.”
“Try your best to hold it.”
A tense standoff with a herd of Cape buffalos
“That’s going to be difficult.”
“Gannon,” I said in a deadly serious tone, “I don’t care if you have to hold your breath for the next ten minutes. You better not sneeze.”
It’s likely a normal sneeze may go unnoticed by such a large herd, but a Gannon sneeze, that’s different. When Gannon sneezes it’s like a Category 5 hurricane just blew ashore. He could literally blow the stink off a pig. I was afraid it would scare the buff alos half to death and get us all trampled. Gannon closed his eyes tight and plugged his nose with his fingers. His face turned bloodred, and veins bulged in his forehead. We all held our breath, fearing the worst. It looked like his head was about to explode. Then all of a sudden, he dropped his hands and whispered calmly, “We’re good. Sneeze went away.”
The herd walked by at a leisurely pace. Some of the buffalos were so close their rough hides scratched us as they passed. With the exception of a few snorts here and there, they showed no signs of aggression. It was like they were out on
a casual morning stroll, one buffalo blindly following another. Within ten minutes, they had all disappeared into the bush. About ten minutes after that, I finally stopped shaking.
GANNON
DON’T KNOW THE DATE, OR TIME, FOR THAT MATTER
I’ve always thought of snakes as a slithery reptile that should be avoided at all costs, but today Tcori actually went in search of one.
We’d just stopped for a rest when he set off.
“Where is he going?” I asked Chocs.
“To find some lunch,” he answered.
“What are we having for lunch?” I asked hesitantly.
“That depends on what he finds,” Chocs answered. “Let’s build a fire.”
While we collected dry sticks for the fire, I watched Tcori, hoping that by some miracle he’d stumble upon something that would actually taste good. He was just walking around and looking up into the trees and bending down and peeking into all these holes and burrows. Chocs, Wyatt, and I were filling a shallow pit with our wood when I saw Tcori kneel down and poke a stick deep into one of the holes. When he stood up, a large, black snake slithered from the hole, obviously bothered by the stick that was being jammed into his home. The snake rose up like it was about to strike and I thought for sure that Tcori was in big trouble, but the poor reptile didn’t have a chance. With the swipe of his stick, Tcori pinned the snake to the ground, held it steady, and chopped off its head with his spear. Even without a head, the body of the snake kept moving for a few seconds—curling up and slithering and flopping around—before it finally lay still in the dirt.
“Whoa,” I said, surprised by what I had just seen. “That was pretty gruesome.”
Tcori dragged the long body to us and tossed it near the fire pit. This snake was a monster, nine feet long, at least. Maybe ten.
Botswana Page 6