I think I could live in Africa, they have nice whiskey, nice hats – Rob, Johannesburg Airport

From Bristol to Botswana, with as many hiccups as it’s possible to script in. 32 hours door to door. We left Heathrow for Johannesburg via Rwanda. Our 3 hour stop over in the small Kigali airport kept being extended due to operational issues with the rotator, much to the annoyance of the room full of the passengers. We were already on Africa time, a concept where things happened when they happened. 

We made it to Johannesburg, rechecked our bags for Air Botswana, a hop to Gaberone. Again we experienced more delays, but as we were on the last leg and too sleep deprived to care, the relaxed attitude felt more humorous.  As we came to board the plane, several hours late, we were assured the plane was fine, but the machine to start the plane was faulty. The ground staff announced “we have a problem, but don’t worry!” And it was worth not worrying as all was forgiven on the plane when we were welcomed with Billtong and Baobab juice. 

We were the last flight into Gaberone. Most of the lights were off in the small arrivals hall, but our taxi was waiting to take us to the farm. 

After a night in bed we were ready to explore the farm. The red ground signalled that we were a world away. The sky buzzed as if electrically charged. Everything shouted for your attention with colour and noise. 

Easter weekend was for family celebrations, the first significant gathering for over ten years. Dad’s siblings who had grown up on the farm in Zimbabwe are now far flung, with two generations now in tow. We were close to 30 people from 9 countries who would appear for meals, and then disappear and as no one was using their phones you would stumble across people in the pool, baking or bird watching.  Saturday was for relaxing as a masseuse set up on the farm, and one by one we had our travel pains replaced by deep tissue pains. Kate set up an IV drip lounge on the veranda and we all had our vitamins replenished ahead of upcoming adventures.

On Sunday morning there was a big Easter egg hunt at the crack of dawn, followed by a brunch and a stroll into the village to climb the hill on the horizon.  The colourful butterflies were bountiful, the birds made bird watching an impossible to resist task. We saw a lilac breasted roller, a Dierick Cuckoo, ruffle feather finch and a crimson breasted shrike.  A short walk to the dam was a popular evening activity to cast the net into the fish filled pond for an easy catch, and wading Long Toed Lapwing splashed at the edge. 

We had a trip out to Phakalane, the posh side of town. Western style malls sat amongst 4×4 vehicles boasting takeaway coffee and KFC. We hired two padel courts and took it in turns to have matches. On the way back from town we managed to pile 9 people into a pickup, 2 adults and a child in the front, 4 adults and 2 children in the back.

Even before it was time to leave, I felt nostalgic for life on the farm. I wasn’t ready to leave this bustling peacefulness. The garden was a haven for Murico sunbirds, African Hoopoe and the infamous go away bird.  Auntie Fi farms chickens, salad and Dexter cows, meaning trips to the chicken house or the lettuce shed were plentiful. Uncle Richard talked us through the aquaponics set up, as his fish were fed in a pool, and their nutrient rich water piped through to feed the abundant lettuce and herbs planted weekly in the seedling house. Jack Russells followed your farm movements, and if a chicken ‘bit the dust’ it was brought to the front door for an autopsy. But as quickly as we had all arrived, the trucks were packed up with rations, refuelled and ready for life on the road. At 5.30am on Tuesday morning a convoy of 4 off road vehicles waved goodbye to Ruretse and in search of adventure.