I’m sitting by the campfire in the middle of the Okavango Delta, listening to the noises of the night, so vastly different to the sounds of the day. Hippos graze around us, there’s a skops owl hooting softly in the neighboring tree, a nightjar glides past unseen, a flutter of ribbon- like feathers, and the lions start their hunt.
They call to each other, deep, rumbling growls that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Elephants mumble softly, occasionally letting off a warning trumpet when something creeps too close to the calves, and the crickets and insects lead a relentless chorus, conducted by tiny painted reed frogs. It’s peaceful, and yet simultaneously noisy. It’s an amazing feeling being so far out of your element, and yet being so much a part of something. I feel vulnerable- increasingly in awe of my own fragility, I am very aware that I am at the bottom of the food chain, everything here is faster, more powerful, more venomous and more cunning than me.
It’s a full moon, so bright we don’t need gas lanterns and we lie back and gaze at the stars- the brightest I have ever seen, and lazily count satellites speeding through the sky. We are hungry, and the night is passing, the fire has enough coals now, it is time to start supper.
It’s pot roast fillet, my favourite: easy to make, although a bit time consuming, it’s a delicious and filling dish to end a busy day in the bush. We place the pot over the fire, raking coals beneath it, and gently brown the onions, adding a bit of garlic at the end. After putting the onions aside, we place our fillet in a hot pan, and brown the meat on all sides to seal in the juices. Hyenas detect the scent of meat, and their whooping, spine- chilling calls fill the air, as they creep closer and closer to the camp. We shine the torch into the bush, and see eyes reflected back at us, watching, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. They wont come near the fire though. The meat is brown, and smells beautiful. We take it out of the pan, and smother it in mustard, before placing it back in the pan with the onions. Next we open two cans of button mushrooms and throw them in, along with the juice from one can. This is followed by a can of baby potatoes (drained), a can of green beans (drained), a generous splash of red wine, as well as two cartons of long life cream. Coconut milk can also be used instead of the cream, as a healthier but equally divine alternative. We mix everything together, put the lid on the pot and leave it to ‘plop plop’ in time to the fire’s crackle and the crickets song, as we relax and tell stories from our day.
We leave the pot for about twenty minutes, giving it the occasional stir, and then we remove the fillet, and slice it, reveling in the perfect pink colour of the meat. It’s beautifully tender, and we place it back in the gravy for another five minutes, before taking the pot off the fire, and serving it immediately with rice or cous cous. The cous cous only needs about ten minutes or less- put it in a pot, and add olive oil. Mix it around with a fork, before pouring in just enough hot water to cover it. Place it on the edge of the fire, and let it cook gently, checking that it doesn’t burn.
We eat around the fire, and the chatter dies down, as people tuck in, contented murmurings filling the air, along with the hippo’s grunts. The hyenas grow bold and one scuttles towards the fire, but when we get up and shine the torch on it, it runs back into the undergrowth. We use the bread Bernie baked earlier to mop up the last of the gravy, and then throw the plates on the fire, put the leftover fillet out of the animal’s way in the grub tent, and sit back with a glass of wine, and think how lucky we are to be here- there is no where else quite like it.
