Travelogue: Namibia Purrs

Ever considered adopting a cat?  Not the garden variety tabby but a cheetah?  Since Namibia has the world's largest wild cheetah population, I booked a trip to Okonjima, a luxury safari lodge and home to The AfriCat Foundation nestled quietly among the Omboroko Mountains.  Originally a cattle farm, AfriCat is "the World's Largest Cheetah Rescue and Release Program" saving more than 850 cats since 1993.  Although cheetahs are a protected species, farmers threatened by them trap or shoot them on sight.  If a cat is trapped, a rescue mission is organized and the animal is put to sleep for 24 hours.  It is flown to Okonjima, where it is radio-collared and assessed and finally released into the wild within Okonjima's 55,000-acre conservation.  Sponsorship and adoption of these four-legged beauties helps promote and protect the species and I wanted my cat, preferably after seeing its natural habitat.

For days, I traveled through dusty roads and uneven tracks, under Baobab trees, willing my eyes to greet a furry creature with black spots and distinctive teardrop markings.  I planned to click away, my eyelashes an extension of my viewfinder, yet no cheetah was sighted.   Instead I was greeted by hundreds of fly swatting, water buffaloes or vexed male elephants in heat.   My guides and spotters worked hard, squinting for hours, jumping to smell fresh dung or studying paw marks. As it turns out, the lenses of my camera captured just another woeful warthog, a haughty hippo, and a skittish springbok.  Despite artistic African sunsets and the tonic of gin sundowners, my frustrated heart would return to camp every night, where we would discuss the day under the weeping wattle trees, chewing on juicy kudu steaks around a warm boma fire.   

On the last day of my trip, still no cheetah in sight, I returned again to my seat on the safari vehicle, camera and binoculars in tow. I inhaled the earthy essence of Africa and prayed for a glimpse of the swiftest body in Africa.   "A female and her cubs haven't eaten in five days.  She will surely hunt today," said my guide optimistically.  He had heard restless cat calls the night before. We drive through vast grasslands dotted with sandstone outcrops.  The morning breeze gently blows through the African savannah, soothing as a balm.  Then all of a sudden, the radio signal splutters alive after days of silence.  She walks in majestically and nimbly climbs onto the horizontal branch, bowing to her in reverence.  Recently she has had three cubs.  There are many lessons to be taught, survival depends on knowing when to hunt and what to avoid.  A prey can sometimes become the predator.  The springboks are near and their erect ears respond to the breeze that brings alarming news.

She becomes the hungry huntress.   She springs, they run, she chases and then leaps. They scurry and scatter, but she is focused on the youngest, inexperienced bambi and does not falter.  A hungry mother is surefooted and will grab onto the weakest and slowest throat.  Only she knows the truth, dinner for the family or the family becomes somebody else's feast.  Holding onto the underside of the springbok's gory throat, she hangs on until it stops fighting her.  She looks in our direction challenging us to partake in her trophy, while commanding applause. The hateful hyenas laugh hopefully.  She is a fine chef; dinner rarely takes more than a minute to prepare.

My camera took no pictures as I remained transfixed.  My hand lies in my lap like the dead deer and I am in awe of a famished mother who will not eat without her cubs. Bald-headed vultures hover in circles, their 'chuffs and woofs' vocalize dinner bells.  We move away under her exhausted gaze.  Later that day, I will leave Okonjima. My heart wonders if those cubs will get to their food before the scavengers.  Will they grow up to be majestic and skillful hunters like their mother? With mortality rates at 90%, will the cubs even survive?  The four-seat plane takes on a trajectory as steep as my reverie.  The pilot points over the din of the engine and I look out onto a vast green plain where a cheetah sits while her three cubs tumble happily over each other.