Jackals on DStv
On my right are Mom, Dad, four children and a Cruiser. The kids are now heading for the ablution block with their facecloths.
On my left, another family of grandparents and their granddaughter. I know this without having to ask. The girl is busy filling a cardboard box with water to make her own splash pool. When she gets in, it bursts and she giggles with delight.
Camping on your own has its perks. There’s no one to talk to, so it’s easier to eavesdrop on your
neighbours. And everything gets done faster because you never have to wait for other people. That’s
why my braai fire is burning high already.
“Ask buurman if he’ll light ours as well,” Grandpa shouts jokingly, observing my progress from the comfort of his folding chair. Here comes Grandma now, Blitz in hand.
You don’t have to set an alarm in the Kgalagadi, especially if you’re sleeping in a tent. A muffled
voice is heard, then two, then the sound of packing up and soon a vehicle is politely started to go and assume podium position at the gate. If this fails to stir you, then the sun soon will.
I’m up in a flash. Eyes open, out of sleeping bag, into my shoes. Four vehicles are already waiting
at the gate when it opens at seven. Some go north; the rest go through the other gate, southwards.
I want to drive northwards, to Union’s End, where the republic wedges like a slice of cake into Namibia and Botswana. It’s like Cape Agulhas – not much to see but one of those “I was there” destinations.
Distances in the park are deceptive (to Union’s End and back takes up a whole day), so you should always make sure your tank is full when you set off for your day’s game drive. Luckily the three main camps – Nossob, Mata-Mata and Twee Rivieren – have fuel pumps.
Ten kilometres north of Nossob a vehicle is parked near the Cubitje Quap waterhole, the driver staring intently at the ground next to the car. After he’s left, I investigate. It’s lion spoor, maybe as fresh as last night.
It’s April and the end of a good rainy season. The Kalahari sour grass and Bushman grass stand
tall and I see gemsbok, springbok, blue wildebeest and red hartebeest in large numbers. 
When I reach the Union’s End picnic site I have to dash for the loo. There’s one other car parked in the shade, a Ford F-series bakkie that I noticed in the Nossob camp last night. I go over for a chat with the occupants, Julie and Johann Bredenkamp, who farm with cattle in the Waterberg. They’re eating mielies. They offer me one and I accept gladly, knowing my leftovers can’t measure up.
The actual Union’s End is 10km up the road. There’s an info board that says I’m 773 km from Pretoria. In the post box I find one crumpled page from a visitors’ book on which a group of patrolling Botswanan soldiers noted that they were here and that it was nice. There is also a copy of The Watchtower, the Jehovah’s Witness magazine. I pop in a copy of go! for whoever comes by next.
On the way back, 26 km north of Nossob, near Kwang Pan, two vehicles are parked with their left wheels on the raised side of the road (the road is so deep it’s like driving in a trench). They’re looking in the same direction, with the intensity of people looking at lions. Julie and Johann are also there and they whisper that there are two male lions lying in the grass next to a wildebeest they presumably caught earlier in the day.
Where? There, 400 m away, under the trees. 
It is some minutes before I see a tail moving. Apparently these two males are Jan and Freek, cubs of the park’s celeb-lioness Ousus (there is a book on her life for sale at the shop).
Eventually one of them– let’s say Freek – gets up, but he flops back down after five seconds.

At the Waterhole next to the camp there is always action, especially after dark. Black-backed jackals are lured by the spotlight, where they catch insects all night. A thick-knee patrols the area too, darting this way and that as if working out some errant algorithm on a giant blackboard.
Most visitors come here in the evening – some even bring their dinner along. Everyone wants to see a lion. Maybe Jan and Freek will be here tonight.
What’s that? Nope, it’s a giant Verreaux’s eagle-owl, which settles like a neatly puffed pillow in a dead tree. And that? Another jackal here for the moth-party. 
It’s a bit like watching DStv. Sometimes you flip through the channels and see nothing but jackals. But, who knows, maybe you’ll be here on the same night as the lion brothers from Kwang Pan.
In the early hours of the morning, from the safety of my tent, I hear the distant roar of a lion. Maybe it’s Freek, freshly awake from his wildebeest hangover.

And many points in-between
A skinny young man holding a gun is standing next to the road at the turn-off to Urikaruus, one of the
new wilderness camps. His name is John Mathys and it’s a Sako .308.
I only give gun-wielding hitchhikers a ride if they work in nature reserves – like a ranger once in Swaziland who had a shotgun with him that he used to scare off “naughty” poachers.
John is the tourist assistant at Urikaruus. It’s his day off and he needs a lift to Twee Rivieren, two
hours’ drive away. I’m supposed to be heading in the opposite direction, to Mata-Mata, but I agree anyway; it’s only just gone one o’clock.
John’s dad used to work at the park too, and his mother, Trooi, still works at the gate at Twee Rivieren.
It’s almost three when I drop John off. I am running out of clean underwear, so I ask him a return favour – would he drop my washing off at the laundry in Twee Rivieren and I can pick it up from him at Urikaruus again the following day, when I’m due to drive past there again?
No problem, he says.
Back on track near Mata-Mata, I start seeing giraffe. Since they were released into the park in 1998 (a group was brought from Etosha in 1990, but they stayed in a boma for eight years), they have kept to this side of the park. Very few have been caught by lions and they have no competition for food, so they are doing very well – there are more than 60 animals already.
The park is also one of the best places to see large raptors such as black-chested snake eagles, martial eagles, bateleurs, stately secretary bird couples and pygmy falcons small enough to be
dangling ornamentally from your rear-view mirror.
And then there are the bustards. Ludwig’s bustards are rarer, but kori bustards you see behind
every second driedoring bush, patrolling the veld with open beak, thick sock-like neck and slightly arrogant quiff.
When the Kalahari sun softens, the landscape comes alive. As I come around a bend past Veertiende Boorgat, the long grass in the Auob lights up like a golden sea, the camel thorns stately ships, the single springbok rams silhouetted on their marking posts.
Moving from camp to camp, you start seeing familiar faces and soon you become friends with the other campers. All the Bredenkamps are here – Dries, Johann’s older brother, and his wife Kobie too. Later they invite me over for hot chocolate; I bring the cookies.
The waterhole is right next to the campsite, so you don’t even have to go to the game hide to see what’s going on. But it’s quiet tonight.
A jackal did come into the camp, though – in the morning I find my dustbin overturned.

Puff adders and Suzy the cat
Kieliekrankie is one of five small wilderness camps that have been developed in the park since 2000. There are only four houses at Kieliekrankie, sleeping two people each, so peace and quiet is guaranteed. It’s also wild: There are no fences. The wilderness camp concept is great, because it provides an exclusive experience at an affordable price (R640 and up for two people).
Each camp is situated so as to show off a very different aspect of the park, from dunes to pans to
river beds, and has a single staff member. At Kieliekrankie it’s Heinie Snyders, who was recently
bitten by a puff adder – he shows me the scar on his ankle.
There are lots of snakes in the park. Back in February Heinie was chasing away one puff adder when another one got him from behind.
At first he doctored himself: He cut open the wound with his Okapi and rubbed salt into it. Later
he also used gifbol (vlei lily). The incident happened at 4 pm, but Heinie only got to Twee Rivieren
by 10 pm. From there he was taken to Askham for treatment and later to Upington.
Now he’s got another affliction: toothache. 
Ralph Cook and Sid Farnie are my neighbours. They are also keen to go for an afternoon stroll, so Heinie fetches his R1 rifle and we hit the dunes.
Just before we leave, a park bakkie pulls up. Heinie chats to the two men and then I see a familiar
washing bag being taken out. Yay, clean socks!
We can’t walk very far, as Heinie has to be within sight of the houses if other tourists pitch up. We are looking for !nabas, the legendary Kalahari truffle, a delicacy treasured like no other.
Heinie knows just what to look for: a delicate crack in the sand that hints at the bulging underground fungus. Or where a bat-eared fox was digging after the same prize. It’s a bit like being a crime scene investigator, searching for !nabas.
But it’s not our lucky !nabas day. Instead, Heinie shows us the gemsbok cucumber, the tsamma melon and pretty purple thunderbolt flower (brandboontjie). Using his Okapi (hopefully clean of
puff adder poison), he cuts open a tsamma. It tastes a lot like a watermelon. The gemsbok cucumber is slightly bitter, but you can somehow imagine it in your Sunday salad.
Heinie digs out the tap root of the cucumber – an important source of water for the gemsbok
during dry times. He carves off a sliver for each of us and then waits as we chew. It’s bitter as all hell! He laughs: No doubt not the first time he’s played this trick.
Luckily we’re almost back home now and Sid and Ralph invite us to have a Hansa with them.
Maggie Farnie and Leta Cook have risen from their afternoon naps and we hand them our veld
veggies to have a taste. As the sun sets, beers evolve into a laidback braai. Around us, the desert
is filled with the kek-kek of the barking geckos, frantic in their last efforts to try and score a mate for
the evening.

HALF AN HOUR before sunrise I’m sitting on the stoep. It’s dead quiet. At the foot of the dune, two kori bustards amble past. They must’ve just slaked their morning thirst at the small waterhole. Two steenbok are also up, their large radar ears scanning the surrounding desert in every direction. Suddenly I imagine I hear a cat miaow... it can’t be! 
To my left a chair is moved. It’s Heinie, also on his stoep. I invite him over for coffee and a rusk. He still has toothache; he hardly slept, poor man. I tell him about the cat I heard, but he’s not surprised.
“It’s Suzy, the African wild cat,” he says, “She’s been here for the past three years; she’s even had
kittens under one of the houses.”
Heinie adds four heaped spoons of sugar to his coffee (might be the cause of the toothache) and then we just sit there.
In a dry year you’d just see red sand, all the way to the horizon. But now there are grass, shrubs
and small trees – far more texture.
Suddenly I spot something moving behind the cement wall of the waterhole. I take a look through the binoculars and hand them to Heinie – it’s Suzy!
She’s ambushing the birds as they come for their morning sip. “That’s her thing,” says Heinie,
“She’ll be there until about eleven and then she’ll come try again late in the afternoon.”
A fistful of sandgrouse circle the waterhole, their clear, burbling call cheerily erupting from their round little bodies. Then they go in for the landing.
Suzy lunges at one, but her claws miss!

Last night in paradise
After the isolation of Kieliekrankie, the main camp of Twee Rivieren suddenly feels too hectic.
But it’s still great to order a steak in the restaurant, and there’s cellphone reception, so I can call
my mother.
The last time I was in the park was in 1988 on a family holiday. Then it was still called the Kalahari Gemsbok National Park – now it’s the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park.
I drove more or less exactly the same roads that we covered in our then brand-new Cressida
station wagon. Today you can explore the Botswanan side too, as well as new 4x4 tracks in the
South African section.
There are also many more accommodation options – like the wilderness camps and the luxury
!Xaus Lodge, owned by the Khomani San and Mier communities. Many windmills have also been
replaced by modern solar-powered pumps. One thing hasn’t changed, though: Visiting here is still
nothing less than a privilege.
The vast scale of the Kalahari can silence you when you watch a massive thunderstorm boil in
blue and white and grey above the Auob River, as it does on my last afternoon. It demands respect. It also has an unforced wildness.
Sure, the South African and Namibia borders are fenced, but if a wildebeest cow really set her heart on it, she’d be able to graze northeastwards from here all the way to the banks of the Chobe River.
After five days in the park, I’m feeling so laid-back, my heart beats about three times a minute. I’ve
covered 950 km, counted almost 100 pale chanting goshawks, seen three lions (the third got up when the game-counting aeroplane flew over), two wild cats and one rednecked falcon.
I also got my number plate back at the gate – someone had picked it up.
It’s time to leave…
I hate leaving.

Twee Rivieren: Transit camp
Twee Rivieren is like Skukuza in Kruger – busy, but a good launch pad for your trip.
Accommodation. The campsite (30 stands, six without power) is right next to the entrance gate. If
you want peace and quiet, rather camp deeper into the park. Chalets 1 to 10 overlook the dunes. You might see a foraging bat-eared fox.
What else does it offer? A well-stocked shop with essentials such as bread, milk and meat; buy everything you forgot to pack here. Also, a restaurant, fuel station, pool and info centre with a great photographic exhibition. This is also your last chance to make a cellphone call; there’s no signal further north.

Nossob: The heart of the park
This is where you’re most likely to hear the lion’s roar at night and catch sight of the cheetah by day,
because it’s bang in the middle of the park (160km, or a 3½-hour nonstop drive fromTwee Rivieren).
Camping. It’s spacious (20 stands with power) but if you want a tree to pitch your tent under you’ll have to check in early. There are also chalets.
What else does it offer? A small shop, an information display, fuel and a swimming pool. The floodlit hide is a highlight.
Tip? Bring your own drinking water if you like your water sweet.

Mata-Mata: A shady patch
This camp (120 km, or a 2½-hour drive fromTwee Rivieren) lies right next to the Namibian border – ideal if you’re planning to visit Namibia (but you have to spend two nights in the park to use this border post).
Accommodation. It’s even smaller than Nossob, so book early. It only has eight accommodation units, and 20 stands for camping (all with power points).
What else does it offer? A small shop, an information display, fuel, a pool, and a hide at the waterhole.

And for a big treat?
!Xaus Lodge on the park’s western border has fully catered luxury accommodation. Readers can get a special discounted rate of R1395 per person sharing until the end of 2008. All meals, game walks with bushman trackers and game drives are included. Hiking and 4x4 trails available on request.

Bookings: 021 701 7860;
info@tfpd.co.za;
www.xaus lodge.co.za

André Butler, head field guide in the KTP, on his favourite waterholes:

Twee Rivieren
“Just 4 km from camp, Samevloeiing is your best chance for lion and leopard. Leeuwdril (11 km past Samevloeiing) is great after rain, because the water forms pools in the road, bringing the game down to the road. This lures the lions. People sometimes expect to see lion, leopard and cheetah in the same place, but other large predators won’t be present in the same area as lions.”

Go! says: There are more than 700 lions and almost 200 cheetahs in the KTP, so your chances are decent. Even leopards are seen frequently.

Nossob
“The waterhole at the camp itself is good, as it’s in the lions’ territory. You’ll hear them when they’re
there; don’t worry. Brown hyenas are also seen here.
“At Kwang (23 km north of Nossob), you’ll see lots of big raptors. My favourite waterhole in the whole park, Marie se Draai, is 10 km south of the camp, where you can potentially see every animal found in the park except giraffes. I’ve seen cheetahs catch ostriches here. If you’re lucky, you’ll see caracal and honey badgers.”

Go! says: Visit www.sanparks.org/webcams/nossob.php to see what’s at the Nossob waterhole
right now!

Mata-Mata
“Thirteenth Borehole, Fourteenth Borehole and Dalkeith are all on loops off the main road. Here you’ll see giraffes, lions and leopards, which like the big trees. If the lions aren’t there, your
chances for cheetahs are better. In summer, the leopards are seen in the mornings, but in winter they’re active later in the day. Nothing moves before 9 am in the winter.”

Go! says: If you’ve been to MataMata and didn’t see a giraffe, it’s time to clean the windows...

What have you never seen before?
“A Cape pangolin. There are usually only about two sightings a year, none yet in 2008.”