Barbara J. Hamby

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Africa Remembered

This morning I put on my Africa tee shirt with the embroidered elephants on the shoulder. Olive drab is not my favorite color. Reputedly, mosquitoes don’t like it either, so it’s popular in Kruger Park. I bought it in the gift shop. Maybe if I wore it more often, I could bring South Africa back into my memory each time.

I remember I was wearing a white long-sleeved blouse when I stood in a prison yard, listening to an inmate combo playing American jazz. Mosquitoes were buzzing around like frantic jazz fans. I recalled that I’d skipped the malaria shot before I left home and I hoped a lot. I was also coated with Deet on all the bare spots and it worked, I guess.

The elephants on the shirt remind me of the watering hole, within eyesight of the road, where we stopped on our evening trip to a jungle barbecue. A herd of mothers with baby elephants were drinking together. They were too far away to get a picture in the dusk, but the snapshot in my head is there forever.

At the barbecue, on the edge of jungle, the fact that we were escorted to rest rooms by armed guards helped me turn down the beer that was offered. We were told animals who smelled the meat cooking might wander in to our clearing to investigate. When a storm came up, before all the food was served, the wind tipped over the cook pots, spilling the meat onto the ground. We were rushed back to vehicles and sped back to our huts, while the native hosts cleaned the area.

The huts we slept in were constructed much the same as those in native villages, but the interiors would probably earn them two or three stars in a hotel rating book. A hot plate, a microwave and refrigerator in the kitchen, as well as a tiny shower in the bathroom were among the amenities. The beds were excellent, also.

Many other memories of that trip in 1998 are included in my travel journals and memoirs. When I grow too old to travel (heaven forbid!), I’ll have those to remember.