I struggle to tell a leopard from a cheetah. I have no idea if the rhino is black or white, because both look grey to me. And I am not sure that I will ever get excited by spotting a bird, blue crested or otherwise: unless it’s a vulture and it’s fighting with a hyena over a fresh kill. I can never remember the difference between a sable or a rhone antelope and which gate at the Kruger Park is the good one or is the one we want to avoid.
I also don’t really understand “competitive spotting”, which is an unofficial South African sport, and where winners are determined by the rarity of the sighting, the visibility and if it was a pack of “Kruger cars” that was the alert to the event, or if it was the sharp and peeled eyes of the participant who did so.
Yet somehow, despite all this, every year around this time, we find ourselves drawn to the area and driving slowly on the S100 (if that’s even a thing) looking for a pack of lion that we had heard (on Kruger Sightings) were feasting on an Impala.
It seems to make no sense. Unless we consider it further.
“The bush” is a way of life for South Africans. As a family we found it to be one of the rare holiday experiences that appeals to all ages. Where many holidays have older children pulling in one direction, younger in another and parents desperate for something they enjoy, the Kruger National Park successfully provides an activity that appeals to everyone. More than that, the many hours in the car (mostly without connectivity), forces interaction and communication that is as rare as pangolin (not that I know that that is).
For me it is a respite from the madness of 2024. In the Kruger there is no Government of National Unity (GNU), there is no Gaza and there is no war. Without a connection to X (Twitter) I am not a “Zionist baby killer” and I cannot be accused of supporting “genocide”. In the bush the death threats I encounter are from poisonous snakes of the slithering kind, and not from anonymous X profiles. It is one of the few places where the number of social media followers is not recognised as currency, and where the opinion of politicians doesn’t matter.
Because they don’t.
In the Kruger, South Africans are just South Africans. They care about the next sighting, the next bathroom break and what they are going to put on the “skottel.”. In Kruger, you roll the windows down to ask strangers “Wat sien julle?” (What are you seeing there?), instead of checking that the car doors are locked and secured as we do in other parts of the country.
The bush is not only a reminder of what is unimportant, but a reminder of what is, even if you are not particularly interested in waterbuck.
As an ADHD, news and media obsessed communicator there are times when this type of trip is not easy for me. As a hypochondriac I worry about malaria, bilharzia and scurvy. I struggle to sit in the car for the amount of time that I do and I do stress about where my next coffee is coming from.
Which is why our visits to the park are so important. It is a time of forced recalibration, of reconnection to the family and friends we are with. It is also a reminder that some of the things t we think are so important, really are not. Even if I can’t tell a lilac-breasted roller from a kori bustard.
