The Okavango delta is frequently described as the “jewel of the Kalahari”. Clichéd? Maybe. But whether you view the delta from the window of a light aircraft, or by passage on a handcrafted mokoro, it cannot be disputed that the sapphire waters and flourishing emerald flora are truly magnificent. Set amongst arid desert that is so prevalent across the rest of the country; the delta sparkles under the midday sun.

However clichéd, such metaphor conveys how precious water is in Botswana – the currency is Pula, Setswana for rain and the bright blue stands boldly on the nation’s flag. The delta provides for the existence of species that would otherwise be confined to the waterways of the Okavango and Chobe rivers. Buffalo and elephant congregate by the waterside sipping cool sun- downers before darkness sets in, a still lagoon conceals hippos wallowing beneath the surface; waiting out the intense heat for a late afternoon graze.

Navigating a maze of clear shallow channels we journey into the heart of the delta by wooden mokoro – a dugout canoe carved from a single log. For delta villagers poling is their livelihood, with the Poler’s Trust ensuring that they benefit directly from tourism. At 2,000 Pula a mokoro is a treasured possession, nurtured and nursed back to health with multiple rubber patches; when tell-tale leaks show signs of old age. Our poler is Allan who has lived all his life on the small island we are travelling to. He listens intently, picking out the calls of Shrike and Weaver birds from a medley of birdsong. Weaving a path through the waterlilies the African Jacana appears to walk on water, explaining its nick-name – the Jesus bird!

No sooner have we set foot on the island when Allan whisks us off for a wild walk in the bush. We meander through long grasses and clumps of wild sage – a natural mosquito repellent when brushed upon skin, and spot wandering zebra and giraffe and the spoors of impala and hippo. Allan shows us the Jackalberry and Sausage trees that mokoros are made from, being slightly stronger the latter is the preferred choice, the named coined from the bulbous sausage- like tubers suspended from branches which can weigh up to 4 kg. I am immediately glad that our tent is not in the vicinity of any Sausage trees!

Utterly isolated in this wilderness the absence of modern conveniences goes unnoticed. The only timings one needs is the rising and falling of the sun, any other timings seem irrelevant and it must be at least a week since I was aware of the day or date. African entertainment consists of singing and dancing around the campfire with our polers, sharing stories, or staring into the flames – mesmerised by the snap and crackle of wood being consumed by fire or the glowing amber embers. The black sky is crowded: thousands of stars, a translucent milky way and the full moon all jostle for attention.

You could be forgiven for thinking that the calm and tranquillity of day would extend into the night. The resident orchestra resumes its 21:00-5:00 slot; complete with hippo grunts on the bass, high pitched whoops from a distant hyena and the deep belly roars of assertive lions. We fall asleep to the constant percussion of croaking frogs, alternating between sounds to create a steady rhythmic beat. It seems as if we are in another world entirely. A world where time stands still.