Comedian Chameleon SOME INTERESTING PEOPLE
By A. Pilot
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Whilst flying tourists all around Africa, one meets a few interesting ones. Some stand out more than others. My friend and colleague Brigitte and I, had flown my favourite New Zealanders into the Tsigaro Airstrip in the Makgadigadi Pans. In fact, these New Zealanders were slowly but surely starting to be my favourites due to their super sense of humour, second only to the South African one. The way they interacted with everyone they met, made them creep permanently into everyone's hearts.
In these very exclusive luxury camps, there is room only for a few guests, so one gets seated at a shared table with the other travellers. The usual questions abound.
Where are you from?
Where have you been?
Where are you going next?
What do you do?
First time in Africa?
At this particular camp, there was one person who sort of didn't really fit the usual profile. Firstly, she was from the US of A but was travelling alone. Secondly, she was quite quiet and listened more than she talked.
Thirdly, she had a permanently surprised look on her face, and when we made her laugh, her face remained exactly the same mask, but a kind of tinkling sound came out of her open mouth. We quickly realised that she was not in a permanent state of surprise, but that her eyebrows couldn't lower anymore due to extensive plastic surgery.
In fact, everything about her was completely renovated and remoulded, a little further down from her face as well. My NZers were very skilled at getting people to laugh around the table, and I caught myself staring at this lady with her fixed features, for longer than is considered polite. It was fascinating to me, how the unmoveable face and the disproportionately filled up lips were considered anyone's beauty ideal. Everything looked so uncomfortable.
Whilst we were eating pepper beef fillets, home-made seed breads, oven bakes, exquisite desserts and everything our hearts desired, she only ever ate three hard boiled eggs, salad, no dressing. Morning, Lunch, Dinner. At least the 5-star chef had us to cater for. Asking for salad in the heart of the salt pans in Botswana, where everything had to be flown in, was a bit of a challenging situation for the lodge. She didn't have much to say about the stock markets, nor world politics, current affairs, travel tips, nor any other topic that was thrown about the main Lapa, where we always sat for the mealtimes. On the third night, my guests couldn't contain their curiosity any longer.
“So, where's home?”
“LA.”
“What do you do?”
“I am a nurse.”
“Any particular field?” They obviously thought, she had to be very specialised to afford all this luxury.
“Geriatric nursing.”
“If you don't mind us asking, but what do geriatric nurses get paid over in LA?”
“We are underpaid, but I had a very old man that I took care of for eight months. I made him very happy for the last months of his life and then he changed his will.”
“Good on you!!”
As she mentioned that she had “nursed him to death” our facial expressions became as surprised as hers. She went on:” Once the family found about his new will, they started suing me. Especially his two sons were unhappy about my inheritance. I had to start spending as much of the money as quickly as possible. I am going to lose the court case, but they can hardly reverse the expenses of the surgical procedures. This was the most expensive holiday I could find short notice, and I always wanted to go to Africa one day and see wild elephants.”
“Ah, not just a pretty face, eh?”
She tried to smile at that comment, while we were trying to hide ours. The night started to get very quiet as it was late, and the twinkling stars guided us to our 1940s styled tents.
The next morning, we waved good bye to the resident cute meerkat families and were driven back to FBJC, the airstrip called Tsigaro. An apt name for the colour of the strip and its shape.
Although it was early in the morning, the sun was already heating up the fuel in the wings of our trusted Piper Seneca. Being turbo charged and flat rated, the lessening density of the Avgas wouldn't pose a problem. The short hop to Maun for a refuel, showcased the stark beauty of the area. Clusters of tall palm trees, beige short grass and blindingly white salt and sand glimmering to the horizons in the building heat.
The winds were still calm, and the strip thankfully bone dry, so we took off in an Easterly direction and circled the area for a quick scenic flight. The camp's wooden decks shone in the morning sun and the elephant and zebra around the waterhole didn't even look up. After Maun, one of the gate ways to the Okavango Delta, we made our way to the next camp, where we would meet another extra-ordinary character…
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