Chada Katavi, and a return worth waiting for
In 2014, my husband and I went to Katavi on our honeymoon. It wasn’t a traditional one though; we were accompanied by three dear friends who we laughingly called “spare wheels” and “hangers-on.” It was also something of a busman’s holiday: a work trip for me to photograph what has always been one of my favourite camps in all of Africa, Chada Katavi.
We spent many halcyon days. We drove, we walked, we talked. We looked at animals, and we looked at birds, many birds (my husband is a very keen twitcher). We laughed. We fly-camped out on the wide Chada Plain and woke up to a long, long line of elephants walking right past our little mosquito-net tents. As honeymoons go, it was absolute perfection, and we still love our friends to this day.
And I can’t believe I haven’t been back until now. It’s far - at least 1,095 kilometres - which, according to Google, would take over 15 hours to drive. Instead, in a small plane, we crossed hours of open and spacious landscape. We stopped in Tabora to refuel - a quick pit stop - and then touched down at the dusty Katavi landing strip. This time, it was without my husband, but with other dear friends and with four days to settle in and document this most precious of camps.
Katavi is an enigma, at least to me. It reminds me of what safari once was: without the noise, the cars, the crowds. You feel alone and alive. Game sightings are almost larger than life. And then there’s the light here, every photographer’s dream, and one that never disappoints.
We bedded in at Chada. My tent - #2 - looked out over the plains. It had been my honeymoon tent back in 2014. New fabrics and soft furnishings had been added, with a huge bathroom adjoining and an outdoor bucket shower. The campaign-style mess and dining tents had received a bit of ‘spit and polish’; interior designer Jo’s clever eye sprucing them up while staying utterly true to their roots. Well, this will be an easy job, I thought. How can my camera not find the absolute beauty in this place? And so it was.
Our guides were both called Julius, one known as Bella, a tall man with a huge smile, and the other, Kivuyo, shorter but with the same wide smile. They took us on long game drives. Perhaps not quite the usual ones, as my Nomad Film Unit colleague Dulla and I were hanging out the side of our own 'media car' to capture images of the vehicle in landscape, with game, with happy wageni (guests) inside, and so on. But it was all so much fun. Yes, we crossed the busy, wide dirt road that traverses the park. And yes, we saw a big truck noisily trundling along. I had worried about that, I thought I would hate it. I did. But I understood why it was there, and - in all honesty - it worried me not at all! The moment it passed, the drive continued, the excitement resumed, and the gorgeous light carried on. As did we.
Dusty, sun-swept days passed and Chada camp manager Joseph kept us entertained and entranced. Image checklists were ticked. Cameras whirred. Memory cards filled up. We were happy photographers and filmmakers. It felt like one of the best jobs I’ve done in a very long time.
One afternoon, we walked out to meet the huge herd of buffalo that had congregated on the Chada plain in front of camp. There were perhaps a thousand head, with accompanying egrets following their every move. A curious standoff followed. I’m not sure how close we were, it felt really close, but it was utterly thrilling, one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments. The buffalo regarded our every move with growing fascination, and also calm. They stood en masse like a line of soldiers considering a truce and a downing of arms and just looked at us. We sat down in the dirt and looked back at them for a very long time. I kept thinking, my goodness, after thirty years Africa can still blow me away. More images here