Pulp Fishin’

July 22, 2016

I have never seen “Pulp Fiction”, but my husband has many times.  So he says, the story is presented out of chronological order.  In this way (and possibly this way alone) my blog going forward will be Tarantino-esque.

Spoiler alert – at the end of my stay in Botswana, the contents of the briefcase will be revealed to be pieces of salted fish – in true Botswana fashion (more on this later).

I am way behind on my posts, which are currently stored on my hard drive in rough form, having languished due to poor internet access, a feverish focus on data collection, and distraction caused by vigilant hippos.

The poor internet access has increased precipitously in the last two months.  I have no idea why this is, but here’s how it goes.  Wherever I am (home, a lodge or camp doing field work, the airport), the signal looks promising.  I click “connect” with a hopeful heart.  Ten minutes later there is nothing.  Obviously I re-connect several times, shake my computer, look out the window, but still … nothing.  Internet is there but not there at the same time.  It’s an ethereal wish that flitters in the air, vanishing when you reach out to grasp it.  If you wait until 2 in the morning, it sometimes improves.

Okay, I’m exaggerating a little, but it’s true that internet in Botswana is often slow and sometimes simply not available.  As with other parts of life here, you have the feeling you are waiting in line and you can’t see the window or person that is your target.

For instance, earlier this week, at a camp in northern Botswana, I went to the reception area to check email.  I had exactly the experience of seeing 5 bars of connection that facilitated exactly zero bytes of data transfer.  Meanwhile, the motorcycling Spaniard who trailed us for days (more on this later) placed a skype call home.  Yes – skype, and all the bandwidth that entails.  Apparently there was enough band width for just one skype connection – so the rest of us waited our turn.

As I contemplate my return to the Western World in just over a week, I note with gratitude that access to internet is likely to improve.  My foray into the far reaches of southern Africa has shown me just how internet dependent I am.

But on to more exciting things – my feverish focus on data collection.  While in Botswana, I have collected samples from 363 fish!  I have traveled the length and breadth of 8000 square miles of Delta to test for antibiotic resistance.  I have measured oxygen, pH, conductivity, temperature, and nitrate so many times that we take bets now on what the measurement will be and usually get it right – even in this changeable and charismatic landscape.  I have mentored students and worked with colleagues and collaborators from North Carolina, South Carolina, Oregon, South Africa, and of course, Botswana.  In terms of data collection and building friendships, this expedition has exceeded expectations.

And finally we have the vigilant hippos.  They are everywhere.  Near every net we put out, along every river bank we explore.  They pretend to be dead only to leap up when we are close to send us fleeing for our lives.  They fill the night with grunts and gurgles, roars and snorts.  Their charactistic “hah-hah-hah-hah” rumbles through the darkness, giving the unsettling impression they are right outside the tent (and sometimes they are).

These hippos look relaxed and sleepy, but they absolutely knew we were there.
These hippos look relaxed and sleepy, but they absolutely knew we were there.

If you say the word “hippo” to anyone in southern Africa, tourist and local alike, they will nod sagely and pronounce with a doomsday tone that hippos are known to be the most dangerous animal in Africa, responsible for more human mortalities that any other.  They beat out fearsome creatures like crocodiles, black mambas, and lions.  The danger lies in the suddenness of their assault.  Like my son woken untimely from a nap, they attack without warning.  Hippos have a distinct “zero tolerance” attitude towards those who venture too much into their personal space.  Of all the animals I routinely encounter, hippos are the only ones that still make me uneasy.  I respect all the animals I meet, but hippos get the widest berth.

We will leave Botswana in 9 days with a week-long detour through Wales before going home to Tennessee.   Over the next weeks, I will post the rest of my Botswana story, filling in the adventures that have happened since the pace heated up in May.  I intend to carry Africa forward with me, into my other life.

The road to data, adventure, new friends.
The road to data, adventure, new friends.