Look onto Chobe River.
See a scarlet sun sink
On the horizon. Silhouettes
Of reeds and birds and trees
And herds of buffalos grazing.
Look onto the boats on Chobe River.
See a marvellous sight
Of tourists as silky haired as sunbeams,
Downing bottles of wine and cider,
Save the few hobby photographers.
Look onto the jetty on Chobe River.
Before the sight of a priceless sunset
At the parking lot where you arrived,
Find popped bottles refracting sunbeams
And squashed cans tarring the dirt road.
Look onto the village near Chobe River,
Neighboured by lodges which charge
More than most ever earn — even in the capital city.
Watch villagers walk at night where
Elephants graze, lions hunt and impala jump.
Look beyond visitor, look beyond Chobe River.
Kasane is rural and flamboyant, dangerously safe,
Hidden to citizens yet open to foreigners.
Kasane is an expat investor’s million-dollar project,
Whose funds barely bless our market.
People come here for our wildlife,
Not our culture and wild lives.
These Northerners only know our North,
Sold off as The Four Corners of Africa,
Which flirt with Zimbabwe, Namibia and Zambia,
And to these neighbours they go forth:
To follow Livingstone’s memory
At Victoria Falls by helicopter
Or to luxury hotels in Livingstone,
Save the rustic few who escape to Swakopmund.
First published at The Kalahari Review
Samuel Rubadiri 