Chada is a restful place, especially if you have me as your guide.
Many camp managers are ex-guides, and I am no exception. When the need arises and the guides are all busy, I am always ready to jump back in the saddle and ride! As it turns out, "ex" is a very meaningful prefix.
Something seems to be missing lately. I seem to have lost that certain je ne sais quoi.
Whether it was the captivating account of the time a mother warthog charged me to protect her piglets, or the monotone drone of my voice, or the number of times I stopped to show them the bark of the chestnut tree, which I find fascinating, I'll never know. What I do know is that after two hours in the bush with these two lucky Chada guests, I had managed to lull them into some kind of deep catatonia.
I keep telling myself it was something in the food.
