The alternative story of Tsodilo Hills, aka ‘I’ve got the runs’.

I enjoyed learning about the rock art a lot, even if I didn’t get to hear it all. Fifteen minutes in, my stomach churned the biggest, most cramped up churn I have ever experienced. I gave Fiver the camera and walked very briskly (not sure I could run with confidence) back to camp. 

The thing with ‘Africa Belly’, ‘Bali Belly’ or any other ‘travellers’ belly’ for that matter, is that it usually attacks at the worst place or time possible. After this incident, if one of us three are ever summoned by the ‘spirits’ of Tsodilo hills, a particular saying has become our handiest code yet. Instead of publicly announcing to my peers that “oh man I’ve got the shits, again”, I can now politely (and almost always sporadically) tell them “I’veGotTsodiloHills”. It is a much more pleasant way to break the news, they understand my pain straight away and they don’t experience that terrible visual.

 The reality of having ‘Tsodilo hills’ on a 470km drive where the roadside is constantly occupied by people, scattered houses or curios stalls, definitely is not.