Some of my worst childhood experiences have happened while camping. I may not know why many black people don’t like camping, but I sure as hell know why I don’t.
My first camping experience was in standard two. I was 10 years old and we went to a place called Bush Pig Buddies on a three-day school trip. “It will be fun,” they said. “You’ll love it,” they said. “It’ll be an adventure.”
I woke up on the first morning with an iguana next to my head. Well, my teacher said it was an iguana. How would I know, it sure did look like one? I’m since told it most likely wasn’t. Suffice it to say, it was a big reptile.
That night, there was a thunderstorm and we were unable to sleep under the stars. Instead, we headed into an abandoned barn and slept on beds of hay upstairs (squeals of joy). I am by no means a germophobe but for me, it was just gross. While experiencing “the romance of staring vacuously into a campfire,” and simultaneously being devoured by mosquitoes, I had an asthma attack. Fabulous.
I don’t have a major problem with reservoirs. Except on this occasion it was the place where we were to do an eco-systems exercise – we had to count and identify all the bugs, creatures and organisms that lived there. It was also the place where the shower water came from. I tried my best to avoid making the correlation at that stage. I simply don’t like showering with cold water, dirty bathrooms and I don’t understand the romance in using a ‘loo with a view’.
And so the cycle continued each year, for the next eight years.
I thought long and hard about the moments that made camping great. Very long. And very hard.
Canoeing was fun. Lying on the ground in the stillness staring at the stars was great. So was helping the rangers feed a baby rhino. Horse riding wasn’t not too bad. Abseiling was cool and, ummm, so eas caving. However, was any of it so great, that I was happy to lie on the ground in a bag night after night?
Nope.
My bestie, who shared most of these experiences with me, suggested we give camping another try, perhaps create some new memories and try to forget those school camping trip nightmares altogether. My first thought was … ‘Blegh.’ But I agreed, hoping that it would turn out to be like studying George Orwell’s Animal Farm: completely baffling when you’re in school, but more enjoyable with age. My other friends, however, weren’t as optimistic. This is how they responded:
Would you go camping?
- No.
- Hell no.
- No, sorry. I like my conveniences
Under what circumstances would you go camping with us?
- Under no circumstances would I go camping.
- I would never voluntarily go camping.
- Maybe. If it was in a cabin.
- If I was so in love with someone that I literally lost my mind.
- The apocalypse.
So, it looks like it’ll just be the two of us. With the proviso that we keep it sane and proper (no more paying good money to sleep on a tomato crate in an ant infested army tent). Been there, done that, got the emotional scars. (Thank you, standard 8 – St. Lucia camp). The spot we’ve identified is Wesvaal Holiday Resort, a campsite on the Vaal River , one hour’s drive from Johannesburg and popular for fishing. In hindsight, we probably shouldn’t have led that questionnaire with fishing.
It’s not that I don’t like outdoor activities, I really love the outdoors. I just hate camping. However, I’m willing to give it a second try. Who knows? Maybe, “It will be fun.” “You’ll love it.” “It’ll be an adventure.”
Wesvaal Holiday Resort is twenty minutes outside Parys. It’s popular for camping and fishing. Photo by Hitekani Mbatsana
Related: Why black people don’t go camping
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