Chameleon craft market - an intimidating experience

On leaving Pilanesburg park, we drove back on the never-ending road to Haartbeespoort Dam, fearing for our lives the entire way, as our delicious lunches got chucked around inside our stomachs. We stopped at the Chameleon Market- the largest indoor craft market in South Africa.

Here we found many crafts made by local people; wooden carvings, tribal masks, pottery, stone bowls, jewellery, beaded items, paper and textile paintings.

To say the experience was intimidating would be an understatement; I was expecting a noisy hubbub of action - stallholders calling out their best prices, trying to attract customers in. Instead, the market was quieter than I had anticipated, with stallholders focusing on individual customers rather than trying to attract the masses. As soon as we entered, the stallholders surrounded us, inviting us to look at their items- most of which they had made themselves- asking our names, and trying to find out more about us so that they could suggest products we would like; our names, nationalities, how many people in our families, who we were buying presents for. Many reached out to shake our hands and introduce themselves, and in doing so, used the physical contact to drag the unwilling volunteer closer to their stall.

 Once you had entered a stall, the stallholder made it very difficult to leave, doing everything in their power to make you view their wares, only just stopping short of physically restraining you. "I give you good price" was repeated over and over again, and several stallholders told me that I was their first customer of the day - it was around 3pm so I feel this was closer to an attempt at emotional blackmail than it was at the truth, but I was boxed in between the stone bowls and the wooden giraffes, so who was I to argue?

The man who carved my wooden bowl - he drove a hard bargain!

 For someone like myself who dislikes being approached by shop assistants at home in the UK, it was far too much; if you passed a stall without stopping, the stallowner acted as though it was a personal insult. Again, I suspect that this was an attempt at emotional blackmail rather than a cultural norm. Other stallholders were more overt, begging us to support the struggling Zulu tribes by making even one small purchase from their stall (although once they had you looking at small items such as keyrings, they would subtly upgrade you until you were face to knee with a life size wooden giraffe.

Even when buying something, the stallholders had ways of trying to make you buy more; once you have paid, your item gets passed to another stallholder who will take it to their stall to wrap, forcing you to go to the other stall to collect your item. In the typical African way, they take their sweet time wrapping your purchase. all the while encouraging you to look at their wares with "no pressure to buy" (the intense watching of the eight surrounding stallholders waiting with baited breath to see if you bought anything suggests that there is indeed pressure).

I left largely unscathed, having fine-tuned my haggling skills in the process of buying two items;

A set of stone, giraffe bookends, for which the stallholder originally asked 800 Rand, but for which I eventually paid 250 Rand (about £18).

A carved wooden bowl, which I managed to reduce from 1200 Rand to 200 Rand (around £15).

Feeling mentally drained by the mental intensity of the market, we climbed wearily back into the minibus and headed for the Lion Park.

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Pilanesburg National Park safari

There is a certain smugness to be gleaned from the knowledge that you have risen before the omnipresent African sun (even if it does catch you up while you're in the shower).

We set off for a safari in Pilanesburg National Park at 5.30am, as early morning is the optimum time to see wildlife. The first part of the lengthy two hour journey took us through some beautiful scenery which would have looked more at home on a postcard from the Swiss mountains than from South Africa. A group of peaks forming a protective ring around Hartbeespoort Dam made for a breathtaking sight first thing at this early hour.

Soon, however, we settled onto one long, straight road for more than 70km, little nearby save for the odd small township and the mountains far, far in the distance. By this point we were fearing for our lives, thanks to the crazy South African driving style; most of the way there we were travelling well above the 120 km/h speed limit. When wanting to overtake a vehicle in front, South Africans do not wait until the opposite lane is clear and then overtake. Instead they drive up right behind the vehicle in front until the driver is forced to pull over, sometimes off of the road entirely, and let them pass. This technique, combined with the several sets of tyre skidmarks leading off of the road and into the surrounding bushes, did not bode well.

However, by 8am we were in Pilanesburg and on safari, although I was kicking myself for having forgotten my binoculars. The first hour or so was fairly uneventful as we skirted around the edge of mountains, passing the occasional herd of zebra or wildebeest. We came across a large group of cars all parked facing the same way, and our driver asked one of the other drivers what was going on. Turns out there was a pride of lions on a riverbank in the far distance - nearly impossible to see without binoculars (thankfully other people had remembered theirs!).  As lions are notoriously difficult to spot in the wild, it was an honour to see them in their natural habitat, although difficult to believe that we had been working with these animals all week. Our existing knowledge of them only served to enhance our enjoyment.

A few minutes after leaving the lions we saw our best sighting of the day; a herd of elephants bathing about 20ft away from the road. Further sightings of the day included rhinos, hippos, crocodiles and giraffes. Sadly we saw no leopards or buffalo, so were unable to complete our Big Five checklist.

The setting of Pilanesburg is the sort of scenery which serves to make you realize just how small you are, and how large the world is; the mountainous terrain is dotted with trees, resembling the stubble of a recently-shaved chin. Although we travelled for four hours, we barely covered a small corner of the park, so vast is its reach.

The beautiful scenery of Pilanesburg National Park

Our final stop was the Bakubung (meaning "people of the hippo") Bush Lodge for lunch. A far cry from the Savannah-esque settings of the park, the lodge was luxurious and the food divine. We plumped for the buffet option, which consisted of seafood, several meats, vegetables, pasta and salads.

If the main course was enjoyable, then the dessert was superb. Several choices of cake, each a work of art in its own right, teased us. Naturally, I went for the chocolate-iest options possible! (Please do not judge me, everybody had at least two desserts!)

Left: Ginger and chocolate cheesecake, Right: Chocolate black forest gateau.

Even during lunch, our safari continued; the fence overlooking Pilanesburg warned of elephants and monkeys nearby, tropical birds kept landing on tables and chairs in the outdoor restaurant, and at one point I looked down to find a leaf being carried away by a group of leafcutter ants*:

*It was actually much more exciting in real life than it appears in the video. Humour me. Please.

Finishing our lunch, we left before we were eaten by giant ants, and headed for the Chameleon craft market.

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Soweto - an eye opening experience

The iconic Soweto towers - you can bungee jump from the central bridge

Leaving the Apartheid museum after our trip to Johannesburg, our next stop was Soweto, a township just outside of Johannesburg, known for poverty.

The first stop was a restaurant on Vilakazi Street, where Hector Pietersen was famously shot during the student riots. Situated in one of the wealthier areas of Soweto, the food was good, although the portions were on the small side.

 

 The street had lots of street art, including a graffiti illustration of the shooting of Hector Pietersen, and whilst driving away from the restaurant, we passed a Zulu warrior selling his wares at the roadside and stopped to have a look.

Although his story was very touching - his daughter had been born recently with cracked ribs - he was of a very cheerful disposition.

Further down the same street was the house which Nelson Mandela lived in intermittently from 1946.  Sadly it has now been commercialised, with a large fence outside, and is very different from when Mandela lived there. We didn't go inside, but our guide informed us that this is also now very unauthentic.

We then drove on to one of the poorer parts of Soweto, where many people live in the shack-type houses which people tend to associate with Africa and India. We parked on a flyover and looked down over a sea of ramshackle corrugated iron and tarpaulin constructions, clothes lines zigzagging across the settlement, which was right next to a fast-moving railway line.

 We had only been there for a couple of minutes when a young girl from the settlement and her grandmother started talking to us. Before we knew it, we turned around and there were 10-15 other children behind us, and plenty more in the settlement below who were calling for their friends to let them know we were there. Our driver, from Soweto himself, told us that they are so used to outsiders giving them money, that their parents send them up to the roadside when visitors approach, to beg for money or food. We gave them some food we had left over from our journey earlier, and it was heartbreaking to see how excited, how grateful they were, to be given half a baguette which we were going to throw away when we got home.

 Very quickly there were so many children surrounding us that the driver had to usher us back into the minibus, before explaining something to the children in a local dialect. When we later asked him what he said, he had told them that those who were not lucky enough to get food from us today would have to wait and hope that tomorrow brought them something. As heartbreaking as it was to know that we were powerless to help most of these children, the worst was yet to come.

The driver explains something to the Soweto children

We drove on to another poverty stricken settlement in Soweto, where we got out of the car with a local guide, this time someone who lived in the settlement. We started walking down one of the dust tracks, with the locals greeting us all the way, until one elderly woman invited us into her home.  It didn't feel right, us with our decent clothes, full-up stomachs and expensive cameras, invading this family's life, but our guide insisted that she was proud to invite us into her home, and would have been offended if we had refused. The house, although not much larger than my living room at home, consisted of 3 rooms; a kitchen, a tiny dining area and a bedroom. The kitchen had an oven, and not much else. The dining area walls were lined with tarpaulin. the whole time we were in the house, the lady was asking questions about us; our names, where we were from, the smile never once leaving her face.

On leaving the house, we found a group of children waiting for us at the garden gate. They all crowded round us, approaching us individually, holding our hands and hugging us. The volunteers talked as a group later, and we noticed that they all asked us the same four questions in the same order:

• What is your name?
• Where are you from?
• Do you have any brothers or sisters?
• Do you have anything for me?

Like the others, these children have learned that visitors usually bring them something, either money or food. As hard as it was, we had been told not to give them any money, as this teaches them that begging can become a sustainable way of life. We walked back to the minibus flanked by children, some still asking "Do you have something for me?" as we closed the door. An overwhelming sense of guilt hit us knowing that these children would have to go back to their parents, some with 10 or 12 mouths to feed, and tell them that they had not managed to get any money today.

But the most humbling thing of all was how friendly these people are, and how unfalteringly happy they are. Despite having next to nothing, and more worries than anyone in the Western world could ever imagine, struggling to survive each day, they are happy and welcoming, and always pleased to meet new people. From what I've seen, this is something that can be seen across South Africa; you cannot go into a shop without being asked "How are you?" and "How's your day?" by complete strangers.

The journey back to the Lion park was a subdued one as we all contemplated what we had seen. Those heart-wrenching, sympathy-evoking videos that we see every year on Comic Relief are not dramatised. exaggerated versions of the truth. For many people, they are the reality of daily life. 

As if the people of Soweto don't have enough to deal with, a dust storm was brewing as we left - strong winds blow dust and sand from the remains of gold mines which previously sat nearby. At best, the airborne sand was painful on the skin. At worst, it was blinding.

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Venturing into Joburg

Our long anticipated trip to Johannesburg and  Soweto today was not part of the volunteer programme, instead we organised it ourselves, hiring a local guide to show us the sights and keep us safe. The drive into Johannesburg took about an hour and a half, via Sandton, and we entered the city via the Nelson Mandela Bridge. Interestingly, our guide told us that buying things in Johannesburg, such as a can of soda, tends to cost about 1/3 of the price of buying them in surrounding suburbs - the reverse of most cities, where things tend to be more expensive than surrounding areas.

Our first stop was the Carlton Building, nicknamed the "Top of Africa" and claiming to be the tallest building in the Southern hemisphere-  a tower block entered via a shopping centre. We were warned to leave our bags and valuables in the car with the driver, for safety. Entering the shopping centre, we were painfully aware of being the only white people in the vicinity, as all eyes turned to look at us. Perhaps travelling past the newly built Shard in London every day has spoiled me, but I did not find the 50 floors of the Carlton building too breathtaking.

It gave us an overview of the layout of the city and the suburbs, but the heat haze and general African dustiness prevented us from seeing too far.

Descending the tower, we headed to the Oriental Market on the recommendation of Heather, a volunteer who grew up in South Africa. A mixture of stall greeted us, from Indian spices and traditional Oriental outfits to electronics.

Our quick pit stop allowed us to tuck into the highly recommended samoosas, a delicious traditional Indian food.

Our next stop was the Apartheid Museum, which gave an insight into the apartheid and the life and work of Nelson Mandela. The entrance was very cleverly designed; visitor tickets are randomly assigned as either "white" or "non-white", and they must enter the museum via the corresponding entrance, separating visitors for the first part of the museum and allowing them to briefly experience the separation of apartheid.

Whilst in the outdoor area of the museum, we experienced our first South African rain storm- an intense downpour that saw the raindrops hitting the floor and bouncing back equally as forcefully. It lasted about 15 minutes, but when emerged from the museum about 45 minutes later, there was no evidence that the shower had ever happened.

The Nelson Mandela exhibition was particularly interesting, featuring a moving video montage of Mandela's political life.

Leaving the museum, our next stop was Soweto, a township just outside of Johannesburg, known for poverty.

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The African transport system

Following our elephant walk, the journey back to the park was very insightful, providing a shocking window into South African culture. At one junction, we passed a group of people drying fish on a wire fence next to the roadside ready to sell. The fumes and dust flying around surely make the finished product unhygienic, or at the very least unappealing, and we saw nobody stop to make purchases, but this is how these people make a living.

We also bore witness to the South African transport system. Very few (if any) municipal buses run in this area. Instead, minibus taxis run along the arterial routes between the main townships. People walk alongside the road until a minibus approaches, at which point they make a sign with their hands to signal where they want to travel to; for example four fingers means "Fourways", pointing upwards means "Johannesburg", etc. There are hundreds of these signals which all locals and taxibus drivers are familiar with, and often people have to catch three or four different routes in order to get to work. If a passing taxi driver sees somebody signalling their route, they pull over to pick them up, often cutting across three or four lanes of fast moving traffic to do so. Although the minibuses are designed to carry 12 passengers, they often carry up to 25 people, as the driver is paid based on how many people he delivers, so tries to cram as many people as possible in.

School children risk their lives walking on the South African highways

Returning to the park, we went to play with the lion cubs. There had not been many visitors throughout the day, so the cubs were very playful. One in particular befriended me, thankfully one of the smaller ones, and decided that the camera around my neck looked like a tasty snack.

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Walking with elephants at Glen Afric

This morning we went to Glen Afric, an elephant sanctuary about 30 minutes away from the Lion Park. Immediately on arriving it was clear that we were somewhere special - heading down the drive, monkeys crossed our path, the first I have seen in Africa. Soon the dirt track gave way to a lush, green paradise, a world away from the surrounding dust clouds; green lawns and pink flowers framed by tropical trees, all leading onto a simultaneously breathtaking and belittling panoramic mountain view - a welcome relief from the overpowering African sun, today being the hottest day of my trip so far.

The lodge, a hotel and restaurant which also offers elephant walks, was a very African take on a traditional English hunting lodge; the mandatory stag head mounted on a central wall was replaced with the head of a rhino, and in place of the portrait of the master of the house was an oil painting of a pride of lions.

After a brief nose around, much to the disgruntlement of the paying guests, we set off in another cloud of orange dust on our elephant walk.

We stopped by a river and our guide told us that we were waiting for the elephants to come to us, as they come to that point of the river every morning. Sure enough, the 25-year old mother and two 5-year old daughters (one adopted) soon appeared to drink and bathe in the river.

When they left a few minutes later, we followed them to a clearing where they began to throw the dust around in a further attempt to cool themselves down - sunglasses were essential as dust flew everywhere.

Once these magnificent animals were comfortable with out presence, we were able to approach and stroke them. Their skin was rough and dry, but the experience of stroking a fully grown elephant in her natural habitat was incredible.

 We spent about an hour walking with them in the blazing heat, taking photos and interacting with them, before we ended up at what I can only describe as the deserted set of a Western film (Fake, I suspect, placed there for the entertainment of the visitors), including a bar called "Fatani's", the same name as the bar in Wild at Heart, one of my favourite TV series. (**Edit: see below)

Alongside the "liquor store" was a large lake where the elephants bathed, and it was a pleasure watching them not only stand in the water, but lay down and splash around in it. It was only the off-putting colour of the water and the threat of other wildlife which prevented us from joining them in seeking solace from the sun's almighty power. As unique as the experience was, it was unfortunate that it took place on one of the hottest days I experienced in Africa, as the searing heat prevented me from enjoying it as much as I would have done otherwise.

  Once the experience was over, and it was clear the elephants were settled in the water for the foreseeable future, we headed back to the lodge. Sitting on a terrace overlooking a stunning mountain view (the sort of which my grandmother would have used five panoramic photos stuck together to illustrate) was divine. The accompanying cup of tea and muffin upgraded the morning's adventures to heavenly, not only because it was my first cup of tea since arriving in Africa, but also because I was faint from the heat by this point, so the sugary goodness was very welcome.

Volunteers enjoying refreshments overlooking stunning views

**EDIT** - Further research has just told me that Wild at Heart IS filmed at Glen Afric.  Whilst we were there I semi-consciously snapped this picture of a building which I thought vaguely resembled Leopard's Den, the central house of the series. Turns out is IS Leopard's Den!!!

And this is a photo of Fatani's bar; the deserted town I saw is actually the film set used in filming Wild at Heart!!

Even more exciting, the terrace where we had our post-walk refreshments is part of the lodge used to film the scenes at Mara, the neighbouring safari guesthouse to Lion's Den.

Anyone who knows me even a tiny bit knows how excited I am right now!!

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A traditional braai

Returning to the camp after our shopping trip, having worked up quite an appetite chasing meerkats, we settled in for our traditional African braai (barbecue). We spent the evening eating good food; chicken and sausages, cooked similarly to a British barbecue, but with extra spice. It was great to try a traditional African meal, as the food provided for the volunteers (burgers/pizza/toasted sandwiches) is not particularly African.

 The strangest part was clearing up; out of habit I looked for a recycling bin for the drinks cans and glass bottles, but there are no recycling facilities in South Africa - at least in this area-  so everything went in the same bin. It felt odd, wrong even, to be throwing things away that could easily be recycled at home - it seems the recycling message has filtered into the British mindset more than people think

The volunteers enjoying a braai!

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Chasing meerkats

I woke up this morning expecting a busy day,as I had two shifts, nursery duties, as extra task and a volunteer shopping trip to squeeze in somewhere. However there were too many people working in the nursery so my shifts in there have been moved to next week.

I spent the morning on the Touch-a-cub shift, helping visitors to interact with the cubs. One of the local tour guides was taking a private tour group around, and he was enviably good with the cubs, putting his face right up next to theirs, and encouraging visitors to do the same.

My afternoon shift was in the giraffe hut, selling giraffe food to customers. After this I was supposed to be helping to refill the giraffe baskets which hang from the trees, supplementing natural food supplies. Myself and the two other volunteers gathered, but no staff member came to instruct us. We went up to the nursery to find someone to help, but the staff there gave us a different, more urgent task; catch the meerkat that escaped this morning. He often escapes through a hole in the wire, and runs around the boundary wall of the enclosure, teasing both the visitors and his fellow meerkats, before retreating back to the safety of the enclosure. This morning he got too brave, and fell from the 5ft wall, leaving him unable to retreat to the safety of his enclosure. He spent the intervening time alternating between heading for the game drive area of the park and returning to the bottom of the ominous wall, stuck in limbo between eternal freedom or the safety of his home with the other meerkats.

Setting off, four volunteers armed with a small animal cage (the sort of thing people use to transport their domestic cats to the vets), half a tin of cat food and no instruction, it felt suspiciously like the South African equivalent of sending the work experience kid to buy a tin of stripy paint, a feeling fuelled by the staff who were eating their lunch nearby offering little in the way of help or advice, instead treating us as the post-lunch cabaret entertainment.

When we saw the meerkat heading back up the field towards us, we set up a trail of cat food leading into the important cage, and sat very still, all finger, toes and bodily protrusions firmly crossed. After waiting very patiently, the meerkat stopping every few seconds to have a characteristic look around, he finally climbed halfway into the cage - at which point, a group of Japanese tourists realised what was happening and came trampling over to take photos. Bye bye meerkat.

The second time we were much closer, waiting until just a fraction of his tail was left outside, holding our breath until the right second to close the cage. Unfortunately, all four of us chose the sane second to lunge forward, which spooked the meerkat, and off he scampered again, much to the amusement of the staff. At this point, after 45 minutes of meerkat pursuit, we had to leave to go food shopping, so the staff said they would take over.  Later in the evening, he was still on the loose, so it seems that despite their laughter and bravado, they had no more success than we did.

 Although we only went food shopping to the same supermarket that I stopped at on Thursday,a 15-minute drive away from the park, it was the first time I had left the park in the four days, so it was refreshing to escape the dusty bubble.

After I had finished my shopping, I went in search of stamps and a postbox, but any sort of mail system seems to be very elusive in these parts, with locals not even knowing of anywhere that sells stamps - it looks like I will be hand-delivering my lovingly-written postcards when I return to the UK. I also spent some time fuelling my foreign sweet fetish in the confectionery aisle, and was delighted to find white chocolate Smarties bars, a firm favourite of mine which were discontinued in the UK a few years ago. Naturally I stocked up!

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A tall visitor

As usual, today started with cleaning out the cubs and surrounding area - including scooping and bagging giraffe and zebra doings. Nothing, however, is quite as pungent as the smell of lion droppings, something which I am certain will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Fortunately we had some time to play with the cubs before the real work started. It was the first time the cubs had properly licked me, and I was surprised at how rough their tongues were.

Again i was on Touch-a-cub duty this morning, this time with Shandor, whose family started the park. Although only 17 years old, Shandor has a wealth of knowledge about the park and the animals. He is one of few people who can go into the enclosures with the more dangerous animals, such as leopards and hyenas.

From watching the cubs walk, I have realised that the Disney animators responsible for The Lion King were very accurate in their portrayal of lion cubs, right down to the slight bum wiggle! The cubs tend to sleep for the hottest part of the day (today was the hottest day so far), often piled on top of each other, despite having freedom of the whole enclosure.

My second shift of the day was selling giraffe food to customers, allowing them to go up to the feeding platform and feed the two fully grown giraffes. Sitting in the giraffe hut, volunteers have a great view for watching giraffes, zebras and ostriches, plus the one meerkat who always escapes the enclosure.

After all the hard graft watching giraffes and playing with lion cubs, I returned to the volunteer camp for a quiet afternoon, and was sitting on the bench outside the tent, reading Stealing Water and enjoying the view, when a giraffe appeared in my peripheral vision, this time inside the boundary fence. Naturally I reached for the camera, and sat very still as he nonchalantly strolled up to me, before bending down to take a closer look, leaving me feeling like Sophie from the BFG with a gentle giant stopping curiously over me. He stood and pondered over me for a few seconds, and I was able to stroke his face, before he returned to his full height and took an invested interest in my book and other items spread out on the picnic table next to me, as well as my clothes which were drying on the railings, and I had to move quickly to save them before he had a cheeky chew on my socks.

Items safely tucked away in my tent, he lost interest in me but hung around for a few minutes, trampling between the tents until he had eaten all of the leaves within his lengthy grasp, before heading for the exit. Unfortunately he got stuck for a few minutes by the exit, before sussing out how to lift the gate post and duck underneath. No matter how much I hate being short, I'm glad I'm not tall enough to have that problem!

Giraffe in camp!

I headed back up to the cub enclosure, but got distracted en-route by the bedtime routine of Mara, the six-month-old giraffe. The keepers feed her 6-7 litres of milk per day, on top of leaves and giraffe food from the customers. After feeding time, it was bedtime, which involves putting Mara into her house for the night, but ever the reluctant youngster, she refused to go.

The keepers have a well-rehearsed routine whereby they muzzle her, one pulls from the front with a lead, and the other pushes her rear end. Eventually, after much kicking on Mara's part, she was safely tucked up in bed for the night.

How many people does it take to put a giraffe to bed?

We went in to play with the cubs for about an hour, as they are more lively in the evening, when the temperature is cooler and there are fewer customers. Unfortunately Chloe was not in a good mood (still) and after a few near misses she pounced on Liza, one of the Brazilian volunteers. Although Liza was not badly hurt, it was a shock for us all, and we beat a hasty retreat.

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Cheetah Walk

Today started the same as yesterday, cleaning out the enclosures and playing with the cubs. Both my shifts today were on Touch-a-cub, where members of the public are able to enter the enclosures, stroke the cubs and take photos with them. Our role is to explain the rules to visitors, and ensure that both the public and the cubs are safe. Through watching and helping the visitors, my own confidence in interacting with the cubs has improved, although I'm still nervous around Chloe after yesterday.

In the afternoon, the volunteers all went on a "Cheetah Walk". We were driven over to the cheetah enclosure  where two of the adult cheetahs live - not the same ones who jumped on someone's car - and went into the enclosure to play with them. It was a little nerve-wracking, as the animals we have interacted with so far have been cubs, whereas the cheetahs are fully grown. However, they were completely friendly, allowing us to approach the, from all angles, stroke them and take photos as if they were domestic pets, not wild animals. Whilst we were there, one of the tourist safari drives came to take one of the cheetahs for a walk; a member of staff took the cheetah onto the safari truck with the customers and they drove to the other side of the park away from other animals to walk the cheetah. 

 On the way back to camp we drove past the enclosure of the larger lions - not the prides in the camps, but the lions who have recently left Cubworld, aged 8 months and up.Until now, I did not realise how many lions there were at the park. Within these enclosures, white lions and brown lions are mixed together, unlike the lion camps where the prides are kept separate.

The evening was spent looking at the photos of another volunteer, Ruth, who spent another four weeks volunteering at a wildlife project in Limpopo before coming to the Lion Park, and had plenty of photos of other animals, including a baby hippo, which fuelled our desire to go on safari next week.

I also managed to reveal my newbie status in camp when I said that there was a giraffe right outside the tent.  Apparently the other side of the fence 10m away does not count as "right outside" - it only gets exciting when they're inside the fence, apparently. 

Fortunately the weather is getting warmer now - today was the first day I did not need a jumper, which was a relief as I have exhausted my winter wardrobe options already, and still have 12 days left!

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