Mudding Mud Huts

Back in the old African day, houses were made such that they could provide a cooling effect during the hot weather and warmth during the cold, rainy season. Most of the huts were cone-like in shape and were made from mud, bricks, dung, grass or stone depending on the area and thatched with grass. Today, mud huts vary in shape and size, design and purpose. They are still, however,environmentally friendly as well as comfortable.

Chrislin African Lodge embraced these ideas and built their first traditional African mud hut in 1999. They have continued building mud huts to now boast 12 scattered around the farm.

Chris and David Pickels built their African mud huts out of mud, cow dung, sticks of twigs and dried grass. Twigs and pieces of wood were first tied together and reinforced by mud. The mud is left to dry for a few days before using grass to make the roof. They literally got stuck in the mud! Keeping up appearances is no mean feit as all 12 huts need to be 'mudded' every few months. Below you can see Sylvie, Chrislin's 'mudder', mudding one of the Garden huts. Her daughter assists her and together they apply layer upon layer, in neat movements.

I stumbled upon this website, which is a lovely short description, with pictures, of re-mudding your hut: My Kenya Experience

Moonlight Magic in Addo

Moonlight Magic

The Addo Elephant Park hosted a piano recital in November 1999. The masterful playing of world-renowned British pianist, Jonathan Plowright, enthralled local and international guests.

A visitor from San Francisco was moved to write this poem:-

CARNIVAL OF THE ANIMALS

(Christine Janselme, November 1998)

The elephants came in two by two,

Cape Buffalo, warthogs and even a gnu,

All to hear the concert.

The giraffes stretched necks in order to hear,

The springbok hesitated and then drew near,

All to hear the concert.

The audience sat binoculars ready,

Their heads were cocked, breathing steady,

All to hear the concert.

The pianist sat flapping his tails,

Pausing to watch the covey of quails

Arriving to hear the concert.

A rumble came across the water,

An elephant’s comment that he really ought to

Start to play the concert.

The prelude started soft and slow,

Building gradually to its crescendo

Which the elephants joined in concert.

The human audience turned and stared,

Some of them were even scared

Of the animals at the concert.

Others were torn between the two,

Watching the player of the natural zoo

That came to hear the concert.

The dying notes were softly played,

The wildebeest snickered, the zebra brayed

Their appreciation of the concert.

Another piece with dancing beat

Had the elephants swaying on their feet

In rhythm with the concert.

Impala shrugged, their tails a-twitch

With ears well pricked for every pitch

Of music in the concert.

A porcupine snuffled and rattled its quills,

A background timpani to Chopin’s trills

Never heard before in concert.

The last glissando, the final chord

Brought the audience standing to applaud

The bravura of the concert.

The elephants stamped then slipped away,

Never to forget the night that they

Participated in a concert.