We hit the Thobolos honor bar for a round of post lion-tracking beers and resume our usual positions on the balcony overlooking the watering hole. Roughly 30 elephants come stomping over, dust kicking up behind them as they gather round in a semicircle to drink and bathe. 

Deon is quick on the analysis. Coke can in one hand, he points to an elephant just off the herd, “You see that little one there. They keep pushing it out.” “Oh yeah, they don’t like that lil guy?” “There are two families here. This one doesn’t belong. Probably lost his family. Or maybe pushed out from his herd as well. He’s 12 or 13. Adjusting to bachelorhood can take a few days to 6 months. It’s very stressful for them. They can lose a lot of weight. Some of them don’t survive that period.”

We watch the dynamics of the herd as they dip their trunks in to drink or throw water over their backs. One of the bulls is always turning towards the outcast elephant to keep it away from the others when it slinks in too close. It maintains distance but is clearly anxious to get to the water. 

“See. They’re done. He can drink water now.” Sure enough the herd starts to move on and the little one is left behind to drink on its own. “It’s this type of elephant that lions will usually take down.”

We watch the elephants move on and can see another herd coming in from a distance. Deon continues to drop interesting tidbits.

“Farmers in South Africa are being quite nice to elephants now and allowing them on their land. They put bee hives around their orange groves to protect them. A small wire attached to the hive. When the elephants touch the wire it rattles the bee hive and agitates the bees.” “Elephants are scared of bees?” “Oh yeah, elephants are scared of bees like nothing else. They avoid those areas. Now they just wire it up to speakers and play the sound of bees. The elephants know the sound and still avoid it.” “Haha amazing.”

The Twins

The second herd approaches the watering hole as Jamie doles out another round of beers. Windhoek Draught. Deon suddenly gets excited, “Oh this is the one with the twins!” “Twins?!”

Two rambunctious little twin elephants are chasing each other around the edge of the watering hole. Bumping into each other and play fighting. Splashing water. Burning around. Stumbling and awkward. If I had a list of cutest things I’ve ever seen, this just instantly jumped into the top five.

“They are just over 6 months. They are so like twins. Attached at the hip, running around the pool.” Mark is curious, “Twins though. Is that rare?” “Oh yes, this is one of four ever recorded in Africa.” Mark gives me an eyebrow-raised look like, ‘I had to ask? Holy fuck bro, you could have led with that!’. “One of four?!” Deon continues, unfazed by our gobsmacked expressions, “They don’t usually last through pregnancy. Trying to carry two large animals, one usually gets aborted.“

Seeing as how we’re watching some measure of natural history unfold here, I pull out my phone to get a vid. It’s unfortunately dark and the twins have calmed down now but I’m still gonna need some documentation of this event.

Dinner Conversation instantly goes off the rails

Yonku brings a platter upstairs with our dinner plates on it and sets it down, “Ready?” “Oh daaaaaaaaamn! That looks great, man!”

He takes a minute to point around the plate at all the goodies. “…and what’s this mix of things over here?” “This is traditional South African Chakalaka.” I chuckle, “Is that different from the Xakanaxa Chakalaka?” Yonku puts his hand on my shoulder, “Oh I didn’t know…” “Haha I’m just messing with you, man. I just wanted to say it.” “He can’t help himself, please forgive us.”

Mark nabs a bottle of the Rhino Run Pinotage from the honor bar to elevate the dining experience. We start chowing down but I’ve still got my eye on the watering hole. The twin elephant herd has moved on and there are just some spotted hyenas down there now. One is on a rock, majestically poised above the watering hole. I point it out, “Look at that big fella there.” Deon corrects me, “That’s actually a female. The female hyenas are larger and more dominant than the males. And they have an external vagina…” “Wait. External vagina?”

Peter is mid bite and has to scoff, “Dude! We’re trying to eat here!” But Deon apparently can’t help himself either, “Ya, it’s called a pseudo-penis. Basically a fake penis. And they have to give birth through it too. It’s terribly painful for the female and a lot of babies don’t survive the process.” “Eating. Deon, we’re eating, dude.” “In hyena culture it’s common for the strongest female to assert dominance over the pack by anally mounting the males and other females…” “Wow dude, ok we really are eating here though…” “…and also, as a sign of submission, other hyenas will often lick the pseudo-penis of the alpha female.”

Mark is beside himself in disbelief over this abrupt turn in dinner conversation. He’s just looking down, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. Moving items around on his plate with his fork, unsure if now is a good time for another bite.

This signals to me that I should really double down and get some more info, “Pseudo-penis of the Alpha Female was the title of my second album. But is it guys licking the girls’ pseudo-penis or more girl on girl action? ” “Haha it is both.” “So hyenas form a social hierarchy based on who’s licking whose… fake cock?” “Exactly. And with the anal mounting.” “Are they hermaphrodites?” “No, they just have an elongated, external clitoris called a pseudo-penis.”

Drisdelle is now red in the face and cracking up uncontrollably. “Sorry, ahhh ya.. sorry. I just didn’t think we’d be talking about…” He can’t bring himself to say it. Oh wait, here we go, “…I didn’t think we’d be talking about crazy hyena clits and their orgies at dinner tonight.”

Everyone erupts in unison. We die laughing. I swear food chunks shoot out of Peter’s nose. I push my chair out, “I’ll get us some scotch.” Mark hits me with the finger guns, “Good call.”

Yonku (or possibly Jönku (or Jönkö)) Gets Wasted

We thank Yonku for the meal and take our scotches to the railing for more endlessly entertaining waterhole watching. Yonku has a glass of red wine now and is asking about what’s next on the trip. I tell him we’re debating going into Zimbabwe or Zambia to check out the Victoria Falls.

“Skip Zimbabwe. That’s just a mission. They’ll want bribes and try to intimidate you. Just stay away. Take the ferry to Zambia instead.” “Ok, that’s good to know.”

Yonku must have been pounding wine while he was cooking. His eyelids are lazy but he’s finally out of his shell. He launches into how he studied theology and psychology. He’s Scandinavian (ahhh so more likely it’s Jönku. Or Jönkö?) but his family lives in Alberta. “Is that close to you, Jonathan?” “Well, I live in California now. Actually, I’m much closer to Alberta living there than I was in Nova Scotia.” “Really? Canada is so big. And so far from here, Jonathan.” “Do you ever go visit?” “I’ll have to soon. They are getting old and dying.” “Oh yeah, make it happen. That shit’s important.”

He seems taken with that comment and shines a beamer at me. “Yes I will take your advice, Jonathan…” (He keeps saying my name in every sentence. Like he’s forcing himself to remember. Or maybe he just really likes it? Wait, am I being hit on? Yep. Ya, I’m getting hit on.) “…and go north when I visit. They are lovely people as well. And very nice to look at. Gynecologist and a surgeon.” “Smart, hot Scandinavians. Good combo.”

I go fill up my scotch and come back, “So do you own this place then?” “No no no, Mike owns the place. Lives in Kasane. He’s got a vision, has multiple lodges. Guns Camp in Okavango is probably the most popular.” “Oh yeah, we drove past it.” “He’s 70. Hippy-like with a pony tail. Beautiful man. You will like him.”

“But you came to cook here? I was surprised to see the chicken with all the game meats around. Happily surprised, I should say.” “I see the people in the area and I do some calculations. Chicken and vegetables. People eat so much red meat. Veggies are lovely. So healthy and good for you. They make you strong.“

I point out to a new herd gathered around the watering hole, “What about these buffalos?” “Water buffalos are like when you mix cement and sand. So huge and with so much muscle. Tough and grainy. Red wine and olive oil and some other things and then it relaxes. Clean, nice smelling, light red meat. Beautiful meat. Lovely meat. They breathe the air, they drink the fresh water. They shit. Beautiful meat. Stays good for very long time.“

“Haha Is that wine turning you into a poet?” “Ahhhh it’s true. I am up too late and too much wine. I’m going to love you and leave you. Long day and yours too. Have a lovely evening. Goodbye, love.” “Night Jönkö.”

Showbiz the Honey Badger

Pretty quiet up here now. Buffalos have moved on. The occasional “Aaaaaaarrrrn!” of a cranky hornbill. The hyenas took their pseudo-penises elsewhere. There are just 8 elephants over there in the distance.

Deon takes us downstairs and shows us a piece of elephant tusk he found in the bush.

“Enamel on the outside, ivory in the middle. Can tell the age, where the elephant would eat, by the rings in the tusk.” “Like a tree?” “Exactly.” “How much would this be worth?” “A hundred grand.” “Whoa!” “Yes. I’ll turn it in to the nature conservancy. But you can see why the temptation is there. Especially in a third world country.” “Well ya, that’s nuts.” “You sure you wanna turn that in? Cuz we could…” “Ya, I’m turning it in haha.”

We have another drink on the balcony and it seems the night is slowing down. It has been a long day with the Chobe River run and the Lion Hunt. Especially after a long night of guzzling scotch from the honor bar last night. Drisdelle and Peter are low on the gas and decide to tap out. Mark and I aren’t really ready yet. Plus we just really enjoy hanging out with the most interesting man in the world. Drank the place out of scotch so we’re on to the whiskey now.

Deon follows up on his honey badger story from last night and starts telling us about a famous honey badger named Stoffel that keeps figuring out ways to escape his cage. Using shovels and brooms to form ladders to get out over the top, or tunneling under the wall. They got him a female companion thinking he would settle down, but then she just became an accomplice in all of his escape attempts.

“You’ve really gotta respect the little bastards. They’re crafty, that’s for sure.” “Oh here it is!” Deon pulls up a video to show us.

This of course reminds Mark and me of the honey badger video with the hilarious narration and “Honey badger don’t give a shit!” comment. OMG Deon’s never seen it?! We pull it up and I want to say this video plus the amount of drinks consumed thus far has brought us to a funny turning point in the evening.

We’re now the three lords of giggle, back from last night’s late hour shenanigans for another round of silliness and uncontrollable man-giggling.

A pack of hyenas starts cackling in the distance with their yips and laughter-like calls. We tell Deon about the hyenas stealing Peter and Jamie’s shoes in Xakanaxa a couple nights back. And taking the cast iron pot from the neighboring camp. “They probably started their own tuck shop over there.” “Haha ya, that’s them calling out all of their sales on stuff they stole from stupid humans.” “50 percent off Nike footware!” “They sound drunker than we are over there.” “We’re not going anywhere near that.” “Not without our wigs.” “Our…what?”

And this conversation devolves into an abstract scene of us wearing red and blue wigs backwards to try and sneak into the Hyena Tuck Shop to get our stuff back. Only to be taken hostage by a honey badger that duct tapes us together in the back of the truck and is making us wear our wigs ‘normal’ (aka on backwards) to try and smuggle us across the border. It makes no sense, but we’re drunk and can’t stop hyena-cackling as we escalate the scene further and further. “No! Wigs on normal!”

Deon takes it one step further suggesting that we airdrop a crate into the compound of some Chinese poachers complex. When they open the crate it’s just a honey badger that jumps out and yells “Supplies!”, then proceeds to go on a killing spree rampage. For some reason we name the honey badger, Showbiz, and Deon can’t stop cracking up about it all. “Supplies!!” hahaha “Showbiz.. ffff fff hahaha.”

“And he can collect the ears from his kills to use as currency at the Hyena Tuck Shop.” “Fuck, we are getting dark here now. All this scotch… what’s tha…” “Ya, what’s that sound?”

We look over the railing and there is a dark shape right below us lumbering about. “Holy fuck it’s a honey badger!” “No way. What?!” “No seriously, it’s a fucking honey badger down there.” “That’s just… what are the… wow. It is a honey badger.” “How fucking funny is that? Did we just manifest a honey badger?” “Is it Showbiz? hahahahah.” “He’s come to get our ears hahaa” “Oh shit!”

Deon runs down to the kitchen and gets the chicken bones from our dinner and tosses them down. The honey badger strolls over and immediately starts chomping down on them. “Hungry little bastard.” “Look at that scar on it’s back.” “Ya, looks like it got in a fight… and won!”

And now we’re three grown men giggling uncontrollably about this honey badger.

Once the giggles subside a bit Deon says, “He’s probably been up here. We don’t lock anything.” “Up here on the balcony?” “Probably. It’s just that open air staircase to get up here.” Mark and I stop giggling for a second and exchange a worried look.

“So I guess what your saying is, he knows how to get up here?” “Oh yeah, for sure.” And for some reason we all start laughing uncontrollably again bwahahahaha. “We’re all gonna die haha.” “Should we move the couches and block the way up haha.” “Ya one sec, I’m just writing a trip advisor review. Had a great stay. Needed to barricade ourselves in the lodge due to honey badger rampage. Five stars!” “Lol I’ll text Jamie. Barricaded in the lodge. Need more scotch. Send scotch asap.” “Haha ya. Just toss it over the barricade! We could be here a while bwaaaahahaa!”

We continue watching Showbiz chomp away down there and get nervous every time he ducks under the building. My eyes are darting around the room for the highest point to get on top of in case he does decide to attack. “I’m going for the bar.” “Oh totally. Then we could still drink while Showbiz has us stuck up there for hours.”

There’s another herd of water buffalo at the watering hole now. The honey badger is still hunkered down right below us. “Well Deon, the two things you’re most scared of have got us trapped up here.” “Yep. Also, do you hear that huh huh huh sound.” Deon makes a sound like forceful breathing. “Yeah. We’ve heard that before. What’s that?” “That’s the leopard. He’s walking his perimeter.” “Oh wonderful. How big?” “Big. About 80 kilos.” “Ahhhhh….”

Mark and I are a little disconcerted to learn that the sound we’d heard on other evenings has been a leopard stalking our perimeter. “Well, the leopard is definitely more interested in that herd of buffalo than you.” “Sure… but just two of us walking back to the truck…” “Ya… good point. I’ll walk you back to the truck.” “You don’t have to do that, man.” “Nah, I will. Leopard killings are bad for our reviews hahaha.”

We set our scotch glasses down on the bar and chalk up the last few tallies in the honor bar book. “Well… there’s ahhh this.” “Jeeeezuz. No wonder we can’t stop laughing.” “9 big beers, bottle of wine, almost 30 pours of scotch. Some fine work again tonight.” I write Honey Badger x1 to cap it off.

Deon walks us back to Belinda. We live another day.