From Hippos to Hornbills in Botswana’s Okavango Delta
“Matthew held our hands as we stepped into the wobbly dugout canoe he called a mokoro. I took my perch on a wooden plank at the front, my mother on one in the back. Matthew stood between us holding a long pole. Plunging one end into the muddy bank behind us, he pushed off into the dark lagoon. Water, black as night, swirled around us.”
