Kwapa: A Return to African Guide Academy
The Return to Kwapa
Bumbling down the sandy road in an open game viewer towards Kwapa Camp this time felt different. The last time I stood on this soil, I was a student — absorbing every ounce of knowledge I could from African Guide Academy's instructors. Now, I returned as something else entirely. Not a tourist, not a student, but not yet a master of the craft either. Somewhere in between. This time, I came back to witness it all through a different lens — both figuratively and literally.
The sights and sounds that once felt novel now had a sense of familiarity, but that didn’t make them any less awe-inspiring. Large herds of impala, wildebeest, and zebra grazed on the freshly emerging grasses, woodland kingfishers cried out their mating calls in the tress, and hot dry air beat itself against my skin. It was all still magic — just a quieter, more personal kind of magic.
Old Paths, New Perspectives
There’s a humility that comes with stepping away from the student role. As a student, every encounter feels like a test. Every track or alarm call is a puzzle you’re desperate to solve. But as a guest, I had the luxury of presence. I wasn’t racing to identify tracks or remember Latin names. I could just be.
The pressure was gone, but in its place was something else — clarity. I found myself more in tune with the subtle details I might have missed as a student. I respectfully yet tenaciously approached elephants at the watering hole, observing the details and signs of our unspoken boundaries. I knew the variety of voices calling out from the trees and, often, what they were on about. There was no checklist, no "pass or fail" feeling. Just raw, uninterrupted observation.
I sat quietly in the shade at midday, reprieving myself from the sweltering 105°+ temperatures, yet still observing the calculated movements of the animals — this observation was not just movement in the heat but the shift within me. I realized that what Kwapa had given me as a student was more than bushcraft skills. It had gifted me with an opportunity for patience, presence, and a deeper respect for the wild.
Wild Moments that Stay With You
No safari experience is complete without the unforgettable wildlife moments that etch themselves into memory. Over those three days, nature didn’t hold back.
On the first day it was the babies. Impala, zebra, giraffe, wildebeest, tssebe, elephants, and kudu all roaming with their young. Bat eared foxes, banded mongoose, wattled crane, hammerkops, and jackals all made their elusive appearances. When you go hours without sightings and the bush feels void, its amazing how a quick sighting of a unique species pulls something remarkable out of you. That silence and time builds an immense anticipation out from within you.
I laid on the ground with a pair of bat eared foxes, I sat just feet away from a bull elephant as he threw water from the borehole in playful annoyance with me, and most of all, I broke my bad muthi.
Africans are immensely superstitious. Many believe in the ways of black magic and seeing that cats had eluded me for over a month in over four different locations, I was starting to get superstitious too. On my last day at Kwapa I was still cat dry, no leopards, lions, cheetah, caracals, servals, or wild cats. Nothing.
I jokingly turned to one of the trainers and said that I think I must go see a muthi doctor in Maun as I was so dry on sightings. Ritchie turned and said stop focusing on the cats and the cats will come.
Approaching camp I saw a speckled mass disappearing into a thick sage brush, a white flash whipped in the air as I caught the tip of the tail. “LEOPARD!” I exclaimed as adrenaline rushed through my body. Everyone turned and saw nothing. “Are you sure?” I heard.
“I know what I saw.” I affirmed sternly.
We approached the sage and I was furiously searching the surrounding area. Cool and collected the driver Bernard slowly pointed across my face. “Jayce look next to you.”
Less than 10 feet away a young leopard was staring intently at us. He jumps up, snarls at the car in an aggressive jump, and quickly scurries off into the bush. We stayed with him for half an hour, never giving up his suspicion of us and remaining elusive within the bush. I was so relieved. My bad luck had passed. As we sat with the young male named “Kwapa Jr.” my day was made. I’ve never FOUND a cat before. I’ve seen many many leopards, lions, and even a cheetah with cubs, but when it’s you who pulls them out of the bush it is a rush like no other.
I broke my bad muthi.
How It Feels to Return to the Familiar
Returning to a place you once knew as a student is an emotional experience. There’s a subtle pride in seeing how far you’ve come, mixed with a bittersweet realization that nothing stays the same. The campfire stories weren’t the same without the familiar faces of my old classmates. But in their absence, I felt the weight of my own progress.
I realized something important: It’s not the place that changes, it’s you. While I was a student at Kwapa, a mentor named Alan McSmith shared with me that, no matter where you go to do the work, the work is always the same. We often travel as a means to find ourselves and subsequently believe these new experiences are catalysts for our inner change. Alan challenged that notion in that through this new environment you’re finally just allowing yourself to observe what has always been there. You can meet those parts of yourself anytime.
Kwapa Camp will always be the same wild, untamed space. The mopane trees will still dominate the boundaries. Small pans still scatter around the various environments. The elephant will still find their water. The leopards will still roam camp at night, but each return is different because you are different. This time, I wasn't a student grappling with imposter syndrome. I returned a storyteller, a photographer, and someone on a mission. This time, I came back with not just knowledge, but also a purpose.
The Road to Savute
This trip to Kwapa was more than a “goodbye” to a familiar place. It was a prelude. Later this afternoon, I’ll be headed to Savute Elephant Lodge, a place whose name alone evokes stories of elephants and predators locked in timeless battles. This time, I didn;t leave as a student. I’m left with intent, with purpose, and with a vision for something bigger than myself.
This moment of pause at Kwapa was necessary. It was a chance to remind myself of what brought me here in the first place — curiosity, passion, and a belief that I’m meant to play a role in something much larger than myself.
As I listened to the bush on my last night, I let it sink in. No deadlines. No assignments. Just the calls of the wild and the weight of knowing that the next time I return to Botswana, I’ll be chasing something much bigger than tracks. I’ll be chasing legacy.
Kwapa will always be part of that story.
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