When it rains in the Kalahari

A holiday in the Kgalagadi is always exceptional, but when the rain falls in this arid area, it becomes a magical experience.

- Wouter Labuschagne

My wife Glynnis, my daughter Liza and I arrived in the Kgalagadi on the morning of 28 December last year. We entered the park via the Twee Rivieren gate and would be camping at Rooiputs for the next five days. Our camp companions were Dewald Tromp (Trompie), a passionate amateur wildlife photographer, his wife Nellie and their two daughters Gamay (13) and Anja (11).

One of my preconceived notions about the Kalahari was promptly dealt a death blow on our arrival. When I thought of the Kalahari, I always imagined a dry, barren, semi-desert of red sand. But here we were surrounded by a landscape of green in the red dunes, with roads that looked like rivers in some places.

Apparently it had rained cats and dogs the two nights before we arrived, and it was as if you could feel the animals’ exuberance, because the springboks were leaping playfully around. (I think there’s a reason that they call them “springboks”. – Jaco).

We saw pools of water all over the place, and that corrected another misconception of mine. I thought that the animals would disappear because water was available everywhere, but in the following few days we saw more game than I ever thought was possible.

The Day of the Lions

Rooiputs has a reputation for lions popping around for visits. So we pulled in carefully and checked in every direction before we set up camp. Was there a lion in the grass watching us? But another, much smaller danger would threaten us at this camp: scorpions. As soon as the sun set, and especially if a breeze was blowing, these dangerous goggas would seek our company. We soon realised that this was not flip-flop country, but a place for proper velskoene.