13th January 1986 : Battered and Bruised

Into Parc National de la Pendjari after extended entrance procedure, with officials working through the necessary paperwork at snail's pace.

Great shots of the very cute legged granaries at the park boundary and just inside.

There followed hours of horrendous potholed and narrow tracks, furrowed roads and tree felling operations on the flat and to escape dry riverbeds busy with animal tracks as we made our way across grassy plains between rocky escarpments and passed tree-lined waterholes.

Day's animal list: barking baboons; large dogs; warthogs; bohor/common reedbucks (several herds late in the day); red and white patas monkeys; large herds of hartebeest (Hunters or Swayne's) and roan antelope, massive horse sized animals with long curved and ringed horns; two herds of buffalo (forest and Cape); cranes along the waterways - huge dark and light grey - and some black and white caribou crane with yellow chests, taking to the air with elegant precision on striped wings; and, beside a distant waterhole, three oval shapes glistening wet in the late sunshine, like large pink sausages, the only possibility being two adult and one young hippopotamus. Up closer we couldn’t see anything, our hippo spotters convinced that the prey had gone to swamp.

The track was so narrow all day that when we weren’t sawing branches off to pass trees we were ploughing past and over trees, showering the nesters and back of the truck with leaves, thorns, bloody great branches, dust, and ash that carpeted everything and everyone. Everyone was filthy and tired but in high spirits when we made a very late camp after a long slow, grinding day of wonderful sights and exciting foliage rearranging.

But the high spirits didn't last for some of us, because Dr Vicki asked me to assist with minor surgery on Bob's very sore leg, finding and removing a hard lump of puss under the top skin. Ann tried to comfort a writhing and finally screaming Bob while Vicki struggled with having to hurt someone she is fond of. Way too close to the butchery you read about in seafaring novels, and not what you expect in the 20^th century. Africa. An exhausted and shocked Bob finally made it to bed.

I’m relieved I didn’t faint doing this, my first surgery, and hope Bob feels better soon, because being ill is getting him down physically and mentally.

Elephants tomorrow!