As I wipe the last dust of the Karoo from my suitcase and tip the red sands of the Kalahari from my scorpion-defence white leather shoes, I think back to the last three weeks of travelling through these thirsty lands and remember how much we take for granted in the big cities where life comes from the turn of a tap and sustenance from a supermarket shelf. It is no wonder that these vast tracts of arid plains and desert dunes remain practically pristine - dependence on springs and flowing rivers limits existence for Man and animals. Without fresh water, we cannot exist. And so nature maintains its balances with the dry seasons and the wet seasons (what we call climate change, but is simply the cycles of weather over millenia), allowing times of plenty and times of struggle, when sometimes the predator is king and other times the prey has the advantage.
The deep silence is addictive to ears that are under constant assault from the modern electronic world and it is easy to understand why some choose to abandon the hustle and bustle for a life of quiet contemplation (close to a potable water source!) and communion with nature. The need for possessions fades quickly and the evidence of human habitation over the last century or two reveals how little they made do with. But always the accessibility of water decides how long we can stay, and today this land can only provide water to the animals through boreholes powered by the sun or wind.
An extended drought will decimate the wildlife, as is currently being experienced, but a good rainy season can reverse this, and parched brown vegetation waits patiently, ready to burst into fresh greenery and bright flowers to continue the circle of life.
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