Springbokkies!

So, I’m now in Namibia, back from a 3-day springbok transporting trip. Already I remember why I love this country. Although Namibia lived in Apartheid-like conditions until their independence in 1990, there’s a palpable decline in tension between the races once the border is crossed. Violent crime is uncommon here. And many people speak German! Namibia has a tiny population and vast natural areas; there can’t be many other countries on earth where every farmer you meet complains that the cheetahs got into their antelope again. I could totally live here, and people who do concur; this place gets its hooks into you and you don’t want to leave.

The arid conditions of Namibia make farming difficult, so many farmers have decided that instead of (or in addition to) domestic stock, many farmers keep game. They then offer this wildlife for trophy hunting, tourism, and live to other game farms. Voila, you have nature conservation that is actually profitable! Once sold all this wildlife has to be moved, of course, and that is my uncle’s job, so off we went to transport 108 springbok from one game farm onto 3 others, whose previous herds those darn cheetahs had eaten.

The springbok had already been “passive caught” for us, which means you build a coral out of heavy canvas and corrugated metal (called a boma) around a water hole, wait for animals to get used to it, and then shut it behind them. The springbok are chased into a narrow corridor in the boma funneling into the back of my uncle’s game truck (a massive semi with a huge metal box, divided into compartments, for holding the game) and another door is shut, trapping them. Here the fun begins, with the loading and off-loading. Naturally, the terrified antelope don’t want to get onto the truck, and once on they often don’t want to get back off. Springbok are small enough (25-40 kg) to be handled by hand, and it’s pretty exciting.

In the confined spaces, trapped by man, the animals resist to the stress in two ways. One of which is to lie down and refuse to move, in which case you have to drag or even carry them where you want them to go. The rest start jumping around like crazy as only a springbok can (wonder where they got the name?), trampling all over the “lying down” ones and scaring the crap out of rookie springbok wranglers. The trick to controlling a springbok is to grab the horns. This provides an excellent handhold with great leverage, and has the added benefit of keeping those horns out of your flesh. The springbok can then be “persuaded” to get onto the truck, off of the truck, into the designated compartment or whatever else is needed. The scary part is barring the exit; every so often a springbok will see daylight behind you and make a flying leap towards it, in which case you throw up your arms a legs and hope that a) it doesn’t get out and b) it doesn’t get you. (At least that’s what I do, the professionals are probably more technical about it.) We even had to transfer the antelope from one truck into another in near-total dark when ours broke down, but it went surprisingly well.

All of this, of course, is in between hour upon hour of driving, some of it at 20 kph before we realized the truck wasn’t going to heal itself. However, that’s all part of the business, and you can always amuse yourself by looking for game out the window. I feel like I saw more game driving through Namibia then I did at the Kruger park. We also ate lots of biltong, the world's manliest food. (Think of jerky injected with purest awesome). Next stop? Depending on how soon the truck gets fixed, I will either be catching oryx with my uncle, or going to Swakopmund to whine about how much fishing trips cost.