High water season of the Okavango River. A water world surrounded by desert and the Okavango River crossing it. General geographical information

River A river is a watercourse of significant size, flowing in a natural channel and collecting water from surface and underground flow of its drainage basin. The river begins at the source and is further divided into three sections: the upper reaches, the middle reaches and the lower reaches,

The Okavango River is capricious. It would seem that, starting just three hundred kilometers from the Atlantic Ocean, that’s where it should direct its waters. But no, the Okavango turned away from him, as if another ocean, the Indian Ocean, was attracting it, thousands of kilometers away in the southeast. But the river cannot reach it: the greedy sands of the Kalahari dry it up completely, without a trace. However, before sacrificing itself to the fire-breathing desert, the Okavango floods widely, forming the largest inland delta in the world.

A little geography

The Okavango Delta stretches over twenty thousand square kilometers, giving shelter to fish, birds and predators, and - last but not least - humans. It is difficult for a person to make his way through the dense thickets of papyrus that cover the shifting swamps. The expanses of the delta remain virgin - its numerous islands and islets. Many of them owe their existence to hardworking termites: in dry times they build high termite mounds and loosen the soil into which plants then take root.

The face of the delta is constantly changing - with every year and season. And the reason for this is the river itself and its original inhabitants. Termites build islands, and hippos build channels to the islands - places of new pastures. Rare visitors to those remote places make their way along these channels, through the reeds. The only means of transportation is native pirogues hollowed out from tree trunks - “mokoro”. Thanks to their narrow, elongated body, they can move among papyrus thickets, however, if the thickets are not too dense.

The ease with which other species of flora and fauna adapted to life in the delta (which I witnessed) and in the arid, almost waterless conditions of the central Kalahari is amazing.

When people talk about the Kalahari, the phrase that usually comes to mind is “dead desert.” Desert - yes, but dead - no. There is water and, accordingly, life. That's right: the water is hidden under the thickest sand cover in the world, stretching over a distance equal to the space between the Urals and Poland. Plants resort to whatever tricks they can to get to the precious moisture and prevent it from going even deeper. Densely intertwined root system grass retains rainwater. The roots of some acacias go to a depth of 30 meters. Large root vegetables manage to accumulate up to 10 liters of water. These tubers are not hidden very deeply, and, for example, springbok antelopes, tearing them out of the ground and eating them, perfectly quench their thirst, even far from water bodies. Predators do the same thing: they get water from the body of their victims.

Another source of life-giving moisture in these parts is rain. But he does not often bestow the desert.
The Kalahari has two typical seasons: dry and rainy time, although in the usual sense they cannot be called seasons. The dry period lasts from May to October; rainy - from November to April. However, the word “rainy” can be put in quotation marks, since it hardly rains at this time. And if the drought continues for several years in a row, then both animals and people suffer. But as soon as life-giving moisture pours from the skies, a significant part of the Kalahari is transformed. Grasses appear over vast areas, dry lakes fill with water, attracting colorful flocks of birds; animals scatter over many thousands of square kilometers. It is not for nothing that in Botswana the same word is used for both the monetary unit and the greeting: “pula”, which means “rain”.

However, what happens in the delta is partly independent of local atmospheric conditions. The Okavango originates in Angola and flows for hundreds of kilometers through mountainous terrain. In the mountains of Angola, during the monsoon period, usual for those subequatorial latitudes, a lot of moisture accumulates, and the Okavango regularly carries it to the delta itself - after one and a half thousand kilometers.

Due to the flat nature of the terrain and the width of the delta, the river flows slowly - at a speed of up to one kilometer per day, so it also overflows slowly. And it takes almost five months for new water to cover the distance from the upper reaches of the delta to its lower reaches, where it gradually disappears into the sand. It goes away - but not completely. The Okavango, as if unwilling to give up, gathers its last strength - and a tiny stream flows further through the Kalahari, albeit under a different name - Botletle. Thus, the rainwater that feeds the Okavango in the Angola mountains reaches the lower delta in about six months - right at the height of the dry season in Botswana. And the water in the delta is crystal clear: it flows slowly through papyrus and reed thickets - a kind of “filters”, and is therefore suitable for drinking.

Maung

Almost in the very heart of the delta is the town of Maung. Once upon a time, a small village huddled in its place, and this could not but affect the colorful appearance cities. Next to the tall, modern telecommunications center building, there are characteristic African huts, the so-called “rondavels.” Powerful diesel engines rumble on the embankment, where, according to stories, crocodiles sometimes get out and devour careless onlookers - several people a year. On the streets, among passers-by dressed in ordinary summer clothes, you can often see herero in wide skirts, which are more suitable for ballroom dancing than for walking on the sands of Maunga. The Herero tribe once adopted this strange fashion from German missionaries and are now extremely proud of their dress.

But one thing the residents of the town are united in is their hospitality. Everyone here is friendly, both black and white. This may be because Botswana managed to avoid worst forms British colonialism and apartheid, carried out at the end of the last century by Cecil Rhodes in other countries in southern Africa. People different colors skins here really live in friendship. I was convinced of this myself when I attended a meeting that took place in Maunga. Members of the meeting discussed issues of hunting and water rights to Lake Ngami, located south of the Okavango Delta.

The fact is that the shores of Ngami are a true animal kingdom... when there is water in the lake, of course. During drought, Ngami dries up to the very bottom.

Now life was in full swing there. However, despite the abundance of living creatures, hunting had to be done according to the rules. It is clear that hunting is for local residents — important source food. But even for them, restrictions had to be set - you can’t exterminate animals indiscriminately! Not to mention foreigners: maybe they should be banned from hunting altogether? However, from an economic point of view, this would be unreasonable, since visiting white hunters are wealthy people and for a trophy - for example, a zebra - they are ready to pay ten times, or even a hundred times more than they are able to pay for the right to hunt that the zebra is a local resident...
Where and how much water can be diverted so as not to upset the ecological balance in the Okavango Delta?..

In general, the meeting lasted several hours. There were both whites and blacks in the hall and presidium; a white woman presided - she was also a translator. It was clear that English language understandable to everyone, but some speakers spoke their native Tswana, and then the floor passed to the presiding translator. It was also clear from the speeches that the whites were citizens of the Republic of Botswana. As far as I have been able to find out, in Botswana no one and nothing can force whites to take citizenship - not the government, not the circumstances. Moving here from other countries, they completely voluntarily become citizens of a “Negro” state, which is not at all typical for whites in other African countries.

To be honest, I was not so much interested in the issues being considered, which were essentially incomprehensible to me, a stranger, as in the people themselves - the expressions on their faces, their temperament... The opinions of both whites and blacks were treated here with equal attention and respect. Of course, there were disagreements, but during the entire time spent in the hall, I did not hear a single sharp attack - no one even raised their voice. In general, I left the meeting with a joyful feeling in my soul...

Sitatunga and others

And the next morning a small plane took me and my three companions from Maung to a tent camp located near blue waters a bay bordered by thickets of papyrus. The camp was equipped with everything necessary - in a word, complete comfort. True, it was occasionally disturbed by the tedious buzzing of tsetse flies. But here no one panics because of them. These inconspicuous-looking dipterans sting quite painfully, but only one in a thousand flies turns out to be a carrier of sleeping sickness. In addition, thanks to spraying, which is carried out under the supervision of national park rangers, the number of tsetse in the delta last years decreased significantly. So on the first night, having chased a couple of annoying insects out of the tent, I happily indulged in a peaceful sleep.

In the morning, throwing back the flaps of the tent, I saw a whitish veil of fog, chest-high - another climatic feature deltas.
Plunging into the pirogue, we set off. "Mokoro", skillfully controlled by Manila, my guide, glided first through clear water, then through reeds - and almost every ten meters new landscapes opened up before us. Water lilies, blooming after a night's sleep, exposed their delicate petals to the morning light. The foggy curtain gradually dissipated - visibility gradually improved.

Something was fluttering in the papyrus thickets: it looked like we had scared away some large animal.
“Sitatunga,” Manipa said, as if I understood what he was talking about.
- Such a big animal, how can it run straight through the thickets, and even through the water: it’s not shallow here? - I asked the conductor.
“Not by water,” Manipa clarified. - This antelope is stomping right on papyrus... of course, relatively thick. Walking through unsteady places, she spreads her elongated hooves wide. Sitatunga even raise their cubs on papyrus islands where predators cannot reach them.
“I’ve never heard of such an antelope,” I muttered in surprise.
- We are located on the territory of the reserve - this is the only place where you can see them. But in other places they are rare. Maybe that's why few people know about them.
“It’s a pity, I didn’t see her well.” And what size are they?
“Nowadays it’s generally forbidden to hunt sitatung, but before, my father sometimes brought them home and sold the meat. Some weighed more than eighty kilograms.
- Eighty kilos - and on water as well as on dry land.
- I'm sorry, what? - Manipa didn’t understand.
“Nothing,” I say, “it’s just me...

Sometimes, to shorten the path, Manipa would direct our sharp-nosed “mokoro” through the thickets to some island. On the islands the grass had already turned yellow, although in some places it was still tall. This attracted the fast impalas, and from a distance we were stared at sternly by the large, grim wildebeests called “wildebist,” a word borrowed from Dutch that means “wild beast.”
Having moored to the shore, we entered the grove, and then larger herbivores appeared.

The area resembled normal African savannah: bushes and trees gave way to the steppe, then again to a grove. Trees attract animals: in open space they are clearly visible. The first ones we saw in the grove were black, or African, buffalos. The African buffalo is very different from its Asian relative in its ferocity and unpredictability. He tends to attack suddenly, which is explained by his myopia. Not seeing well what his “probable” opponent is doing, the buffalo sometimes rushes at him out of the blue, following the principle “attack is the best defense.” Whether this is true or not, but the “blackie” is definitely more dangerous than a lion who is usually indifferent to people.

A herd of buffalo trampled in the distance, but then a large male appeared less than a hundred meters from us and, seeing us, froze in anticipation. Manipa didn't like this.
“Let’s stop and let’s not tease him,” he whispered. “Who knows what’s on his mind.”
For a minute that seemed unusually long, we stood motionless, playing staring contest with the buffalo staring at us.
- You know, you better climb a tree. “The guide pointed to a tree standing nearby, on which there was only enough room for one.
- And how are you?
“It’s okay, I’ll guard you down here.”

Without asking what he meant by the word “guard,” I obeyed the order and somehow perched myself in the place where the tree trunk forked. Just then I remembered about the camera... But the next moment the picture changed: two “ladies” appeared on the stage, whom our gallant gentleman, apparently, considered it his duty to protect. Paying no more attention to us, he disappeared into the bushes with them.

“Come on, hurry up and get down from the tree and get into the Mokoro.” Now we’ll go to Chief Island - you’ll see elephants, lions, and maybe hyenas.
We went around Chief from the western side along a narrow channel that divided this neighboring island. Suddenly loud splashes and squelching were heard ahead, and some kind of fuss began.
“This is an elephant,” Manipa assured me. - Or maybe not alone. Let's stop and take a look...

Returning from reconnaissance, a somewhat embarrassed Manipa reported that big elephant I lay down to rest on the bank of the channel and even blocked it a little. So it’s hard to say when he will deign to clear the way for us.
And then he added:
“Although it’s generally possible to walk there.” But if we suddenly appear so close to him, the elephant may get scared, and then only chips will be left of the “mokoro”, and a wet place will be left of us.
- Well, let's go back the other way, there are many different channels here...
— Weight is not so simple. To the right, behind this nameless island, our path will be blocked by an impenetrable papyrus plug. It's too far to go around Chief on the east side. We won't make it to camp before dark. And the sun sets at six. Can you imagine what it's like to be in this labyrinth in pitch darkness? Then they won’t pat me on the head for this.
- What if you scare away an elephant from a distance? - I suggested. - Maybe he will get up and leave?
“So he won’t pay any attention to us,” Manipa remarked reasonably. - If we get close, we might run into...
- That’s the situation! What to do?
- There's only one thing left to do - have a snack. This brilliantly simple answer puzzled me somewhat.
- Have a snack? Well, we already had breakfast...
“So we’ll have to have lunch.” Manipa was young, strong, and could grind breakfast, lunch, and dinner at once without blinking an eye. With the dexterity of a real waiter, he quickly arranged folding chairs, a table and laid out all sorts of food. Opening a thermos of tea, I suddenly stopped and asked:
- What if this thug comes to us for a cup of tea without an invitation? This is not your buffalo. For example, he will break this tree like a match if we climb on it.
“Of course, he’ll break it,” Manipa agreed dispassionately. - But why on earth would he break it?
- Why, elephants break down trees all the time!
— They break to get to the branches on which they feed. Elephants don’t just attack people - only in cases of obvious threat. True, there are exceptions - solitary elephants. Among them there are real monsters. They mainly attack. But this rarely happens. So pour some tea and don’t be afraid - the elephant won’t try to kill you.

Having finished our meal, we, like clean housewives, went down to the stream to wash the dishes. Either our noise disturbed the giant, or something else, but he suddenly stood up. Manipa told me to lie down in the mokoro, and he hid behind the boat. And we began to wait for what would happen next. To our relief, the elephant crossed the channel and began to climb the steep bank of Chief Island. He stopped there, turned his back to us... and did not notice how we quietly slipped past.

The biggest lions

Manila felt indebted to me, promising to show me a lion and a hyena during our walks, but, alas, nothing came of it: we never saw the hyenas, and I only saw half of the lion. The other half of it - the head and the front part of the body - was behind the bushes, and I could only guess that it was a male.

“Exactly a male,” Manipa assured me. - Just look at his paws. In Botswana we have the largest lions in Africa. They attack buffaloes and even young elephants in packs. And they retreat only in front of one enemy - hyenas.
- Hyenas? - I was surprised. - But lions are incomparably stronger and larger.
- Yes, they never fight one on one - hyenas run away cowardly. But when hyenas gather in a huge pack, it’s still a question of who will win. It happens that lions shamefully flee...

In the end, we were lucky: during our next trip to Chief Island, we clearly saw a lioness devouring a wildebeest.
“Now we have much more wildebeest in Botswana,” continued Manila. “And a few years ago, during a long drought, it was simply terrible what was happening. Wildebeest died in the hundreds of thousands, all because of fences.

Manipa meant fences placed in different places Botswana to fence livestock from wild herbivores, carriers of infectious diseases that can be transmitted to people through food: it is especially rampant - and often with fatal- foot and mouth disease.

“Fences,” stretching hundreds of kilometers across the Kalahari, fenced off large pastures where herds of buffalo, wildebeest and other antelope grazed in non-drought times, from perennial water sources - and especially the delta. But then a long-term drought struck - this had happened before - and herds of thousands began to migrate along the familiar route to the north, to the water.

The main tragedy occurred in the depths of the Kalahari, south of the delta. The fences helped the delta itself a lot. On the western side they stopped the herds of cattle. Without the fences, livestock would invade and devastate the delta's water meadows, leaving wild animals to die out.

Now the delta is full of life - on land, in water and even under water, which greatly frightened one of the families of our camp. A father, mother and their sixteen-year-old daughter once went for a walk in two mokoros. Piroga with her dad and mom safely came out of the bay near the camp, but something happened to the boat where the girl was sitting. “Mokoro” suddenly jumped on the spot - the guide and passenger found themselves in the water, and the boat in the mouth of a hippopotamus. Having bitten off a piece from the side and rendered the pirogue unusable, the hippopotamus disappeared under the water. The other mokoro was already some distance away. The frightened parents expected with horror that the monster would emerge again and their daughter would end up in its mouth. The guide and the girl, as if racing, swam to the shore, which, fortunately, was close.

The frightened guide explained that nothing like this had ever happened here, near the camp itself, before, but in other places such incidents are still happening - sometimes with human casualties. The fact is that hippos like to graze at night, and in the daytime, when it’s hot, they prefer to rest in or under water.

That same day, the unlucky family left the camp, leaving the following entry in the guest book: “The place is interesting, but very dangerous.”

Meeting with the "forest man"

I often pestered Manipa with questions about the Bushmen. I was interested in the past and present of this people, different from most others African peoples not only external, physical appearance, in particular, skin color - they have it much lighter - but also nearby linguistic features, anthropologists even attribute them to some special race.

Bushmen (Bushmen, translated from English letters. "bush people". - are divided into groups: Kung, Kong (Makong), Khomani (Nusan) and others. — Note edit.) and the Hottentots, the original inhabitants of South Africa, settled here long before the arrival of the tribes of the Bantu linguistic group that now inhabit these places. Even before the establishment of white rule, the Bantu pushed the Bushmen out of the best areas of the Kalahari into barren areas. But even there the “forest people” showed extraordinary ability to survive, adapting to find water and food in an environment hostile to humans.

However, harsh living conditions and constant persecution of foreigners greatly reduced its numbers. Although today the Bushmen are allocated special settlements in the Kalahari, or, simply put, reservations, they practically do not live there: the majority prefer to engage in hunting and gathering - that is, to lead the traditional lifestyle of nomads. The rest are employed by the same blacks and whites.
- Why are you interested in the Bushmen? - asked Manipa.
“I’ve heard a lot about them and would like to see where and how they live.”
- How do they live, you say? Badly. But, if you want to look at them, we can go to the village, at the very end of the delta.

The skin color of the Bushman with whom Manipa introduced me was, indeed, not black, but apricot color, but otherwise, in appearance, our Bushman was not much different from other Africans. What was surprising was his suit: a jacket and trousers of dark blue with white stripes. Such a couple would be more likely to be seen at a diplomatic reception than on a farm worker in the wilds of the Okavango. The suit was clearly from someone else's shoulder - unbuttoned, too big size, the jacket hung strangely on his thin, naked body, exposing his protruding ribs. When I asked if he was getting ready for a parade, the bushman replied that the suit was given to him by a visiting European, and he was wearing it because now he had no other clothes left.

Then, looking me up and down, he suddenly asked:
— Could you give me a shirt? It's winter time now. And although the days are hot, the nights can be cold.
Unfortunately, I could not satisfy the request" forest man”, since I took with me on the road only the essentials. And I left everything else in Maung. But I still promised to send him some clothes from the camp when I fly back to Maung.

“Tell me,” I turned to my new acquaintance, “do you have any relatives among the Bushmen nomads in the Kalahari?”
“What kind of relatives are there?” he answered sadly. - Those who were there died long ago. We had such a custom - in Hard times leaving the weak and old to die in the desert to save food and water for the stronger. The old people themselves asked to be abandoned.
- But is there anyone left alive? - I was amazed.
- Yes, sure. Those of my family who survived now work on farms, like me and my brother.

Then his brother approached him, and they spoke in their native language. I noticed that during the conversation they somehow smacked their lips, but then I didn’t pay much attention to it. Later I learned that smacking is characteristic of a peculiar family of so-called “clacking languages” common among the Bushmen and Hottentots. There are several types of clicking sounds - they all perform the functions of consonants (Linguists, powerless to designate these sounds with letters, use to designate them exclamation marks and colons in the middle of a word. For example, “tzwa! na". — Note edit.).

The culture of the Bushmen - their songs, dances, rock paintings - has now fallen into decay. 90 kilometers from our camp there were heights rare in the Kalahari - the Tzodillo Hills, dotted with rock paintings. These are very well done ocher images - mostly wild animals, and sometimes people. There are a lot of drawings, maybe more than a thousand. Who created them? The Bushmen living near Tzodillo have no idea about this...

But, in general, I have a positive impression of this country, because people here build their lives in a civilized manner, without racial hostility, and diligently protect the unique gift of nature, the Okavango Delta, which flows into the sandy Kalahari Ocean.

Vadim Dobrov
Botswana