Jenny Bowen reflects on the sights, sounds and scents that stay with us long after we’ve returned home.
To me, the sound of Africa is that of honking hippos — the melodious grunts and snorts as they wallow in a nearby waterhole. This vocal cacophony always makes me smile; it is deeply nostalgic.
Back in 1992, during the first five nights I ever spent in the African bush, I stayed with Karen Paolillo, who at the time was single-handedly saving a pod of hippos during southern Zimbabwe’s drought. Even today, hearing hippos brings back happy memories of being a safari newbie, in awe of every sound and sight around me. It takes me back to that joyful journey of discovery. That, and the plaintive call of an African fish eagle.
Many people assume that sight is the most important sense on safari. It took me more than twenty years to realise otherwise. Recently, I’ve started taking visually impaired guests on safari, and it has opened up all my other senses.
It’s not just about seeing a rhinoceros grazing; it’s about hearing it snuffling and munching its way through dry grass. It’s the sound of the red-billed oxpeckers perched on the rhino’s back, giving their ‘tweeee’ alarm call. It’s the smell of sun-baked earth mixed with sweet rhino dung. It’s the feel of the setting sun gently caressing your face and the breeze carrying the faint scent of wild sage disturbed as the rhino passes by.
I had never really studied a rhino properly until I had to describe one to visually impaired guests. Now I pay particular attention to everything around me, not just the wonders I can see. An African safari is an all-encompassing assault on the senses, and I now experience it in a different light. It is uplifting, yet grounding.
I’ve been on the same safari itinerary many times, returning to a familiar route and accommodation, but every trip is unique. This is influenced by the interests of the people I’m travelling with, the wildlife we encounter, or the seasons and ever-changing climate. Nothing is ever quite the same.
A trip I led in Namibia recently blew me away. After all the rain southern Africa received earlier this year, the desert was in full bloom. I had never experienced it like this before. Instead of seemingly barren red earth, it was a sea of grass tinged with pink, shimmering in the wind and ablaze with yellow and purple flowers.
Since then, I’ve learned that local traditional healers were delighted by this abundance. Some of the plants had not been seen for twenty years, allowing them to replenish their medicinal supplies. We even had rain while visiting the dunes of Sossusvlei — something almost unheard of.
As we stood in Deadvlei, marvelling at skeletal trees seemingly emerging from the clay pan, it hailed.
There are very few people who can say they have stood in the Namib Desert during a hailstorm. We experienced four seasons in one day. Such is the Namib.
Jenny Bowen offers small group tours through Sense Earth
Around the campfire
Jenny’s story made us wonder…
When you think about Africa, what comes to mind first? Is it a sound? The smell of the rain? A certain guide? The dawn chorus? A particularly peaceful sundowner? A meal shared under the stars? Or perhaps an unusual sighting or unexpected moment that stays with you?
Let us know. We’d love to hear your story, and with your permission we may share some of our favourites in a future Shamwari, or in the magazine itself.
