The Smells of Sabbatical--Ari

Ari Day #43

“The Smells of Sabbatical”

4-28-2022

Chipangali Wildlife Orphanage, Zimbabwe

On my morning run, the time of day where my brain seems to be working the best, I had the realization that the odors over the past 43 days have possibly been more memorable and powerful than even the sights, sounds, tastes, and feels. So much so as to justify dedicating one whole, whopping journal entry to the smells of our adventures.

The subtle salty scent of the Hawaiian Pacific began our western circumnavigation of the globe. The smell of fried oil permeated Pearl Harbor, summarizing the quality and variety of food offered there. The subtlety of the sabbatical odors ended in the middle of the Pacific, and the crescendo of aromatic strength began…

Entering Sabang Beach in Palawan introduced us to the nearly constant smell of fire in third world countries which has followed us on this trip to this day. The Puerto Princessa Underground River greeted us with the unique combined smell of salty ocean water with bat guano. NoaNoa and Seda Lio had the continued salty smell and the slight odor of turpentine in the hotel rooms.

Then came Nepal. Lonely Planet alerts the reader that Kathmandu is basically complete sensory overload. Well, that’s an understatement. Thamel was covered in the combined smells of incense, gasoline, fire, urine, and excrement. Our Thamel hotel room had the requisite faint smell of cigarette smoke—remnants of a past that we experienced more regularly in the US in the 1980’s. Heading on the trek, our first night in Lama hotel introduced us first to the wonderful smell of fried garlic that went into every plate of Dahl Bat, and then unfortunately to the unforgettable stench of a squat toilet—if you’re lucky, it smells like the outhouse soap, if you’re unlucky, it strangely smells like a pot of urine and feces that has been sitting for many days…

In the mornings, the wonderful smell of juniper and other incense permeated the tea houses and the whole towns. This was always on top of the constant smell of fire which was used to heat houses, cook food, boil water, and burn trash. A truly unanticipated pleasant smell was that of burning dried yak poop which they used above tree line as fuel as wood was difficult to come by…quite pleasant indeed. And then I do have to mention the bilious odor of vomit that followed me, Asher, and Cris after our bouts with amoebiasis… All the aforementioned odors continued through our visits to Syafrubesi, Pokhara, and Kathmandu…

And now comes the crème of the crème of strong odors—Chipangali. Holy s$&^*! I really thought that Nepal would be the most odiferous place I would ever visit. Was I wrong. I certainly anticipated that working in a wildlife orphanage would come with its fair share of poignancy, but I grossly (notice the word “gross”) underestimated to what degree. Our first day here, we did the “nursery” where you feed the baby animals fruit and cut up meat. Well, the fruit is oftentimes half spoiled (note: nearly all the food that is given to the animals in the orphanage is donated in the form of unsellable fruits/vegetables, fruit/vegetable scraps, left over hops from making beer, and dead animals including cows/chickens/horses/donkeys/roadkill) coming with a slight tangy odor. The cages housing the babies are relatively cared for, yet have the smell of old food, urine, and a bit of feces. What really disturbed me was a terrible rotting smell which was outside the nursery coming from 2 caged hyenas—something I wouldn’t understand fully until 2 days later…

Day #2 at Chipangali was our first official work day, working with the antelope and the bush pigs. Cutting down branches for the antelope to munch on was tame in the world of smells. However, when I went to the vegetable/fruit pick-up truck in the back to root around through rotting fruit and vegetable scraps from the market which was teeming with flies and mixed with trash, the tangy pungent smell was unforgettable. Yet, there still was an even more disturbing smell in camp—still by the hyenas and also on the “slab” where the donated dead animals were butchered.

Well, day #3 was the day that the mystery was solved—carnivore day. Our main goal this day was to clean the hyena cages, requiring us to move the hyenas into a different cage so that we could clean their current cages. The pungent stench was overwhelming. It became apparent that the hyenas had been in their cages without them being cleaned for 2 months!!!!! So, all the left over meat/bones/entrails that they had been given over the past 2 months mixed with their urine and feces in a bed of straw—all adding up to the first smell that finally made Linden say “enough”…she couldn’t do it anymore. That truly had to be the worst smell I have ever experienced. Fortunately, after cleaning the cages while holding our breaths, the whole camp smelled better and the poor hyenas were happier. What made this all harder was we took the wheelbarrows of tainted straw to the “dump”…quite possibly the most disgusting place on earth. Walking there, one needs to pass the “slab” where the ground is soaked in blood and there are bits and pieces of rotting entrails and meat—a stench not much different than that of the hyena cages. Then you get to the dump, where literally there are piles of manure, heaps of rotting entrails from various animals, and whatever else you can think of that would tie your stomach in knots.

Ironically, today we took care of the domesticated animals and spent the majority of the day shoveling sheep manure that had built up for over a month—likely at least a couple tons. Now, if I had done this 3 days ago, it would have been one of the grossest things I had ever smelled. However, after the previous day, this was a wonderful reprieve, and the whole Ballonoff crew felt as though they were working in a flower garden.

So, what is the lesson to be learned? I really think the lesson for me is how important it is to get out of my comfort zones. Especially at my age, an age where I have become so set in my ways and reliant on routines to the point of fearing what may happen to me if I don’t abide by those routines. This entire trip has peeled me away from most of my routines and comfort zones—whether intentionally or not. I have been so incredibly uncomfortable with this lack of control—yet it is teaching me that my limitations and perceived inabilities to violate my routines are all in my head. These odors, whether pleasant or repulsive, are stretching my heart, soul and mind making them more flexible for what is to come…