So… top marks to both Namibia and the Okavango Delta – from Brian’s rarefied perspective. Because he was also aware that his views of these destinations were just that: views of countries and parts of countries as destinations and not as somewhere to live, work and die. He wasn’t stupid enough not to realise that the locals might look on their environment in a very different way. Not least because most of them wouldn’t have seen the Crown Jewels of these places, unless they just happened to work in somewhere like the Etosha Park or the Delta. And one could not deny it; native Namibians and Botswanans only rarely featured as guests in these places, and Brian had observed none on this visit.
This might, of course, change. These two countries, which occupy a part of Africa that was regarded as “poor material” by both colonists and the locals for centuries – and a place where, because of the lack of water and good soil, the living would always be hard – are now two of the most stable and prosperous nations on the continent. Namibia has its diamonds, uranium and a number of other valuable commodities – as well as its farming and the prospect of oil – whilst Botswana has even more diamonds along with copper and nickel. And if… these riches can be shared out fairly between what are still encouragingly small populations, the day might arrive when a safari Land Rover in the Okavango Delta will be carrying not a couple from Windsor but instead a couple from Windhoek. However, he also knew that such a time was not that close, and this aspect of his thinking was probably more to assuage his guilt (of being in a position to enjoy the delights of these two countries) than it was a realistic prediction. But who could tell? And indeed, with what was going on in Europe, how long would it be before that couple from Windsor could no longer afford their seat in a Land Rover?
However, all this stuff was going over old ground. Brian had been here before. But, of course, there were parts of Namibia and Botswana to which he hadn’t been before – and there was the odd new event as well. And these new elements of his African experience furnished him with the raw material for a number of new views – and three of them stood out from all the others. The first of these was the “Strip”.
Yes, the Caprivi Strip, that cartographical oddity that starts at the top north-eastern corner of Namibia and squeezes itself between Angola and Botswana right up to a distant corner of Zambia. And it is literally a strip, a thin ribbon of land that forms part of an otherwise coherently shaped country only because of colonial wheeler-dealing in the Nineteenth Century. It is a construct and a very strangely configured construct at that. But it did set Brian’s mind in motion, and what he arrived at as a result of this cerebral movement was a view on mankind’s impermanence.
For here, he believed, were some lines drawn on a map, which, in mankind’s terms and mankind’s terms only, denote a distinction between one stretch of land and another. Just, of course, as many borders drawn on maps do, but to a preposterous and striking degree. Particularly when one appreciates the impossibility of distinguishing between an expanse of southern Angola, an expanse of the adjacent Caprivi Strip and an expanse of Botswana just to the south. And sure as hell, the elephants and many other wild animals make no distinction whatsoever. They haven’t seen the map and instead see the land for what it is: a continuum – with only a stretch of river to denote any sort of difference at all.
This wasn’t, however, to underestimate borders – or thin strips of land – as being important in human affairs. Brian was only too aware of how important they were – as evidenced by all those border posts that he and Sandra had been obliged to negotiate – and he accepted how real they were. Because people, he firmly believed, feel safe behind borders. Borders are like the walls of a house. They are essential to the wellbeing of those they protect, and they keep out all those who are not welcome (or at least they should…). But he also knew that they all share one feature: they are temporary and, in geological terms, transitory to the point of their being entirely ephemeral. Hell, even in their lifetime they have constantly changed, and they’ll continue to change. And in the not too distant future they’ll be forgotten. Because, although many of his fellow humans were not eager to admit it, Brian knew that, as a species, we are a flash in the pan, and that there was a very high probability that very soon (and not just in geological terms) we will be in the fire – and with us, our borders.
Whereas the next new element in his recent African experience would still be there, underlining mankind’s transience on this planet and the absurdity of features such as the Caprivi Strip. Because this was a natural feature, one that has already been there for thousands of years and, in all probability, will still be there long after we’ve disappeared. And this feature is, of course, a “Pan”. In fact it is the Pan within the complex of the Makgadikgadi Pans on which Brian and Sandra were driven after their sensational encounter with meerkats at Jack’s, and which had stayed in Brian’s mind as one of the most remarkable places he had ever visited. Not only was there nothing there, but the nothingness was part of a bigger nothingness the size of Portugal, which, at the time, had made him feel very insignificant and, in retrospect, very ephemeral – along with all those other humans and their lines drawn on maps.
So that was the heavy stuff: our impermanence versus the indifferent and enduring permanence of the world we occupy, along with many of its physical features. But there was a third element, remember. And this was the “Wrinkle”…
Yes, Brian was still, three days after the event, very aggrieved at his treatment at the hands of the Botswanan constabulary. OK, he’d been guilty of speeding. But that aside, he’d still been stung. And what made it all the more annoying was that this sting had been perpetrated at the very end of a stay in a country which, up to that point, had been consistently enjoyable. And more than enjoyable. It had been like a foretaste of heaven. But then, at the very last moment, the celestial firmament had developed this horrible wrinkle. It was not what he’d wanted and it had so much taken the shine off his visit. So much so that he could deal with it in the only way he knew how – by weaving it into a tag for the whole of the trip, a silly label by which he would remember this loop through Namibia and Botswana (and a bit of Zambia). And yes, that label would be “Strip Pan Wrinkle”…
Well, OK, it is just a little bit contrived. But this is Brian, remember. And what’s more, who’s to say that it’s intolerably contrived, when it picks up so well the three unique features of the trip, and when it might just cause a recollection of a certain literary character who lived in the Catskills in America – and who was “an amiable if somewhat hermitic man who enjoyed un-crowded activities in the wilderness” – (and slept a lot)?
Although, as far as Brian knew, he didn’t suffer from an itchy back that didn’t settle down for over a week – and it was highly unlikely that he’d ever been a hopeless loopaholic…
Strip Pan Wrinkle Page 26
