Al-Qalam 
Journalist Ismail Suder tells of his foray as a camper – one time in the Amazon jungle – but he now has plans to solo camp in SA and beyond the borders.
Solo camping! That’s one of the few things still loitering at the bottom of my bucket list – and it was screaming for the experience.
For years now, the thought of solo camping, or any kind of camping, had been gnawing at my soul. I’ve been poring through the pages of outdoor magazines, watching endless You-tube videos of people bundu-bashing in their 4×4’s or camping alongside river banks and grilling fish on sizzling coals. I was living vicariously through them, but at the same time salivating at the thought of me being in that picture for real.
Then last week, MY time to camp had finally come!
I loaded all my camping gear into my beloved Suzuki Jimny 4×4 and headed to Rocky Bay camping ground on the Kwazulu-Natal South Coast, about 100km from Durban. A million thoughts consumed my mind as my little 4×4 ate up the kilometres. ‘Will I be able to pitch the tent and awning by myself? ‘Will I survive a backache sleeping on a thin mattress. Did I bring enough braai meat? Did I pack the toothbrush?
Needless to say, I wanted everything to go right – and oftentimes the pent-up anxiety was akin to a groom on his way to meet the bride at the reception hall. It was not the kind of anxiety where I felt something bad was going to happen, you understand, it was more a feeling of expectancy mixed with generous dollops of excitement, anticipation and hope. I guess this was a normal reaction for a man who has never camped in his life – at least not this way!
This burning quest to camp reminded me about an extreme camping experience when, about two decades ago, I undertook a wild-camping expedition into the vast Amazon jungle in Brazil. Of course, in those days, there was a spring in my step, so much spring that I could have fought off an Anaconda if I had to. Ummm, good thing I wasn’t tested!
Honestly speaking, any sort of dangers I might have put myself into at the time, didn’t hit me then. It was only when I returned home to South Africa did the full impact of my actions – or sheer folly – hit me. No doubt, I believe I was under full protection of my parents’ duas that was graciously accepted by Allah Subahana’watala.
That story began when I was on a four-month tour across the vast expanses of Brazil. At the jungle town of Manaus, the gateway to the Amazon rain forest, I met a Belgian man who suggested we take a ferry down the beautiful yet treacherous river known as the Rio Solimoes Amazonas – it was a full day sailing into the belly of the Amazon rainforest, in 50deg.c humidity.
Our guide was an Amazon Indian tribal elder from the Yanomami tribe whom we met at the river port in Manaus. For the price of two bags of rice, he promised to take us deep into the rain forest and introduce us to his family, to catch alligators and piranhas, show us the medicinal plants they rely on for their health, and to give us a taste of both the harshness and beauty of Jungle life.
On the first night, dog-tired, we slept in a hammock that was strung up only metres from the tributary of the mighty Amazon River.
I awoke to the sound of birds in a setting that was as wild as it gets. But the rest is history and a story for another day.
Now back to my road trip to my camping site. I could feel the dryness in my throat as I got closer to my destination. ‘Did I have firelighters, wood, charcoal, kettle, enough gas in the 3kg bottle? My mind was racing and I felt my pulse rate picking up. ‘Did I switch off the geyser of my apartment before I closed the door behind me?
Monstrous
This fixation with camping began when my Suzuki Jimny off-roader was delivered smack bang at the height of Covid early last year. Like a barn mouse, I had spent months gathering camping gear. My purchases from the online Takealot store were so frequent that I was virtually on first names terms with management. Not really, but you know what I mean!
Minutes after pitching my tent overlooking the ocean, the winds picked up speed, whipping up monstrous waves that crashed onto giant rocks the size of multi-storey buildings. The sound of the crashing sea was music to my ears – I loved it!
When the sun eventually set and the winds had died down, I made myself a good cup of coffee and sat quietly staring into the darkened sea. My little lantern added to the ambience of peace and serenity. This, I told myself, was what I had come to experience and it took two years in the planning. Of course, it could never match the experience I had in the Amazon, but it was rejuvenating and allowed me to connect with the raw, unrestrained beauty of nature.
By 7 pm, I had retired to my tent that was tastefully furnished with a foldable stretcher bed, a folding aluminum table, a thick folding mattress with two soft pillows, a folding chair and an array of snacks and fruit. Frankly, had I placed a few after-dinner mints on the stretcher-bed, one would be forgiven for thinking that I had booked a room at the Ritz, ha ha!
But, as soon as I had made myself comfortable, I started to text “worried” family members to show proof of life.
As I was being lulled into sleep with the constant sound of the sea crashing and spilling on the shoreline, I heard the loud pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the tent. If you could have seen me in the low light, you would have perhaps seen the lit-up face of unadulterated happiness.
During my one-time beat as a travel writer on the once prominent newspaper, The Daily News of Durban, I had the privilege of staying at some of the world’s finest hotels on the planet, but nothing could compete with the satisfaction of sleeping in a tent, alone with one’s thoughts with only the sounds of the rustling winds, rain and crashing waves for company.
There’s no stopping me now. The sedentary life, especially during Covid, has made me realize that there’s more to life than a Sunday drive to the mall.
So often, I’ve gasped in awe at the magnanimity of Allah Ta’ala in the tapestry of his creations. I have whispered Subahanallah whenever I immersed myself in the beauty of lush green ravines and burnt-orange cliffs at Oribi Gorge, the cascading waterfalls and rugged mountain peaks of Sani Pass, or taking a quiet boat ride on the St Lucia Estuary to hear the sounds of the African Fish Eagle calling out from the thicket.
Getting in tune with nature and appreciating Allah’s bounty is an important Sunnah. In Surah Qaf, Allah says: “And the Earth, we spread it out, and cast therein firmly-set mountain as We have made to grow therein for all beautiful kinds; to give sight and as a reminder to every servant who turns to Allah” (50:7-8).
South Africa is blessed with so much natural beauty. As for campers, safe campgrounds are everywhere. If Allah wills, I’d love to travel & camp further afield … at Kosi Bay near the Mozambican border, to Kruger National Park and Port St Johns on the rugged wild coast of the Eastern Cape.
The next time I sleep in my tent amidst the sounds of the night, I am confident that the same protection and mercy that Allah Ta’ala had blessed me with as I trudged through the jungle of the Amazon, will surely be given again. Ameen!
*Ismail Suder is a senior journalist at Al-Qalam. He is a former senior journalist of the Daily News and a former senior-sub-editor of the Sunday Tribune. He has travelled extensively across 60 countries. You can follow his travels on Instagram at: jimny_go_afrika.
