"Yeah, I'm a pretty good shot..."

I have learned after camping with friends and family throughout the years that “camping” means different things to different people. So, when I was told that we were going “camping in the bush” this past weekend, I really had no idea what to expect. But let me tell you, if that was what is considered “camping” in Africa, anyone could be a camper.

The purpose of the weekend was to celebrate Paul & Elizabeth’s birthdays. So a group of about 15 of us went off into the bush of Africa to spend the weekend on a hunting block (chunk of land ‘owned’ by people who then run a hunting/safari company) eating good food, drinking good beer and shooting things. This particular hunting block is managed stateside by Paul’s brother, which means that I spent a weekend doing what people pay 1000s of bucks to do, and I didn’t have to pay one shilling. And since I am Dutch, this thought was almost as thrilling as seeing giraffes, zebra and elephants fairly up close and personal.

Anyway, one of the funniest moments (for me) was learning how to shoot a rifle. I have a vague memory of guns being banned as toys growing up (maybe this was just at my grandparents house) and hunting definitely is not a pastime in my family, so handling a gun was a new thing for me. I was mostly worried about bruising my shoulder or poking my eye out, and not too worried about hitting the target (no, not a live animal but a harmless cardboard box).



So after finally positioning myself correctly, I just let ‘er rip. I was just thankful to not have been thrown off the bench by the kickback, but wouldn’t you know it, I actually hit the target and somehow it ended up being the second best shot of the morning.

I should have had the sense to retire because then the shotgun came out. These are pictures of the target (water bottle propped up on a bush) before and after my shots.










Yep, they’re the same. It kind of reminded me of how I play golf: about once a year. Each time I do pretty decent so I decide not to test the waters by golfing again. This way I can claim, “yeah, I’m a pretty good golfer.” So when Shoshi said, “you were shooting really high” I responded, “Of course! It’s just like my golf swing. I thought I had my eye on the target, but then it just doesn’t work out the way I think it will…”

No worries, as they say. I didn’t want to show up the other men too much in one morning.