Comments (0) On Genevieve and my recent trip to Philly, we had the dubious pleasure of watching Gerry learn to play the vuvuzela. James coached him, but even a South African needs time to convert Bafana Bafana fans and teach true vuvuzela virtuosity. After this experience I now understand that you really need to work hard to be as annoying as the hosts of the 2010 World Cup.
Recently, everyone from President Obama to Tom Friedman have been particularly vocal about the need for entrepreneurship and the need to encourage startup activity. What is disappointing, from the point of view of serial tech entrepreneurs, is that no matter how well intentioned the concern, the remedies proposed are still far from the mark.
So why are people interested in startups? Because startups create jobs and, in the tech sector particularly, they create good jobs, paying much more than the national average. Because they are nimble and create technologies and products that make the US globally competitive. And because they’ve always been a great strength of the US economy that almost no one else has successfully copied.
Unfortunately, the discussion about encouraging startups and entrepreneurship has become too wide ranging – proposals try to target all startup activities from corner stores and cleaning services to the next Google or Apple. While all of these endeavors are noble, I believe that high-potential-growth technology companies are where we should place our emphasis and that attempts at equity have blunted the effectiveness of what’s been done so far. This is because sustained competitive advantage ultimately derives from technology and tech companies (often in partnership with governments) are the engines of both job creation and many of the improvements that have driven up our quality of life in the last 50 years. Most big companies have effectively outsourced their R&D divisions to startups, preferring to grow by acquisition than by the uncertain returns of internal development as investors keep putting pressure on profits. Technology startups (and I include bio, nano, IT and many others) are the companies of the future and their success will drive the economy.
Technological jingoism? To be sure. If you don’t agree with it, I’m unlikely to convince you and you’ll probably be madder than a renter coming home to find a stranger in his parking space when you read what follows. Similarly, if you are no-intervention laissez-faire economist, you’d probably better spend the time reading about what happened in 2008 and reconsidering your world view. Otherwise, if you accept my prejudice that tech startups are the growth engines of the economy and you feel that government has some role in promoting them, read on!
Many have touched on this topic and what I’m trying to bring to the debate is my experience in four startups on three coasts, a piece of paper from a well regarded institution that claims they taught me basic economics and a bit of experience trudging around Capitol Hill talking to policy folks. My goal is to discuss what the enlightened public policy pundit should propose for supporting these efforts and what – equally importantly – is a waste of time and resources? This is a series of postings with some concrete suggestions from the trenches. Part of my goal is to torque some people up – without debate there can’t be constructive change.
To round out the safari, here are our remaining photos and a short video I compiled from the three hours or so we shot while we were there. The music in the video is performed by the staff of one of the safari camps we stayed at during “traditional night”.
And our highlight photos are on Flickr.
After our arrival on the air strip, it took us an hour or so to navigate the off road tracks to get to our destination, Chitabe Camp (see the satellite view for an idea how remote this is). Before we got more than ten minutes from the airstrip, however, we started seeing wildlife. It began with elephants.
It began with elephants. Doesn't everything good begin with elephants?
I added that picture before trying to describe it. My mental immune system was sufficiently degraded from intercontinental travel, our guide’s blase gesture and my experiences seeing elephants variously in the zoo and on TV that it took me a minute to process that in front of my was several thousands pounds of pachydermal power and that I was the one on display, not the other way about. This might be a good moment to affirm, reaffirm and affirm until it’s so firm you could drive a nail into it with a sledgehammer that there is no similarity, however much you might think there should be, with anything you’ve seen on the Nature Channel or behind bars in a zoo with the impression a wild elephant makes on you in nature. A Mark Twain put it, it’s the difference between the lightning and a lightning bug. At the time all I found myself saying was, “That’s an elephant! An elephant! Elephants!” This is very hard to deny when you see the creature before you. There is very little in the world that is so present as an elephant.
Shortly after seeing the first group of elephants, we came upon a giraffe. Unlike the elephants, there is something about a giraffe that looks made up, cartoonish, like a child’s impression of a horse with disproportionate legs and neck or some kind of yellow-spotted oil derrick. This one combined its already eccentric appearance with a sort of teenage gangliness accentuated by a goofy grin. This giraffe was clearly designed for the purpose of putting visitors at their ease. Though much taller than the elephants there was no possible way to believe that this guy would hurt you even if you roundly abused him – he was the giraffe equivalent of your cute little niece in her first little dress.
After a few other encounters, we finally came to the camp. Now for the explanation of the previous quotation marks. When told that we were staying in a “tent” in a “camp”, a certain image was conjured in my imagination born of many family canoe trips. It was an image involving nylon loops and tent poles, ground stakes and rain flies, stuck zippers and the lesser known ballroom step of a half turn through a partially opened door flap while removing your shoes, while trying to prevent the accumulated dirt caked on them and the ambient cloud of mosquitoes from penetrating any more than possible. The Tent Tango if you will. Nothing could be further from the truth. Chitabe, a so-called classic camp, it build entirely on a series of elevated wooden platforms connected by boardwalks at approximately two meters above the surrounding earth. The main platform, or tent as they will insist on calling it, actually has a thatched roof, bar area, couches, chaises, the occasional table and a fire pit. An adjoining platform houses a dining room table with buffet and yet a third the notorious loo-with-a-view, a toilet with total privacy from the other tents, but a view out over the surrounding districts in case you wish to do a bit of hyena-spotting with your business. The tents themselves have all the amenities – 24-hour generator power, en-suite shower and toilet (as well as an outdoor shower for the exhibitionist or shower-spotter), a king bed, ample mosquito netting surrounding the aforementioned bed, an electric fan, two vanities and even a hotel-style safe. Aside from some vestiges of canvas in the walls, the total lack of any communications devices of any kind and a sort of insect background level that never really goes away even during this, the dry season, it made for a room that would not embarrass an American Hilton and would put many lesser hotels to shame.
We were given our safety briefing by Dawson, the camp manager, which basically amounted to this – don’t touch any animals and if you are going about at night, make sure a staff member accompanies you (as we were to find out later, the boardwalk to our tent was quite long – a good five minute walk – so this wasn’t like saying you mustn’t cross the street without a crossing guard). Dawson also introduced us to the safari schedule, which goes something like this: rise before dawn (5:30AM or so), get picked up at 6AM by your staff escort and stroll to the main tent for a spot of coffee and bite of toast. Climb aboard your Land Rover for a 4-hour game drive returning for brunch around 11AM. Following brunch, you sleep a bit (like the lions – they sleep 18 hours a day or more) showing up around 3:30PM for tea (English tea – it includes a bite to eat). From 4PM until 7:30 or so you are back aboard the Land Rover stopping briefly for sun downers (there it means drinks with sunset not advanced retirees) before returning to camp for dinner, summoned thence by a blow on a kudu horn, which is best thought of as a shofar that has enjoyed a healthy diet and exercise enabling it to grow to five times its normal proportions.
After the briefing, Dawson escorted us to our tent. On our way, however, we were waylaid by Grumpy Bob, who, along with Tsunami, comprised the pair of elephants that frequented Chitabe Camp. Don’t get the idea that the camp is fenced – by no means. Your two meters of altitude may inconvenience snakes and I’m told that hippos cannot jump, but from the point of view of an elephant, it merely brings you to eye (or as it may be trunk) level. This would be convenient if elephants carried your bags. It is less so if you are afraid they may carry away your wife. Neither of these occurrences ensued.
When an elephant decides to block your path, you aren't going anywhere.
Our first lion on safari.
That’s a lion. No really, it’s a lion. She’s several hundred pounds of muscle, bone, claw, tooth and ferocity. She’s about six feet away and there’s nothing between us but the open side of a Land Rover. She’s so close you can see the cataract in her eye without a telephoto lens. And that’s another lion beside her.
Genevieve and I just returned from a week’s safari in the Okavango Delta in Botswana, Africa. I didn’t know what to expect – everyone I know who has been there before has been curiously reticent. They’ll say that you must go, that the experience is life-altering, but they’ll stay away from superlatives as if they would diminish the experience. I used to imagine there was some informal, almost Masonic African explorers club with a portrait of David Livingstone on the wall and an initiation blood-oath to not define the experience, but only encourage others to follow. Having now lived it, I can see that in fact there is not need for such a secret society – the event is itself both humbling and intensely difficult to characterize. I found myself describing, for example, the experience of sitting in our tent while an elephant ate a tree so close to it that he kept colliding with the side of our fragile lodging looking for a better angle at the foliage. In a sense he was a gentle giant, but as his bulk filled the window and we realized that even by accident he could cause us grievous injury or death we were awed by his presence, thrilled by our proximity and stuck through with fear as we cowered behind the false cover of our mosquito net in hopes of not attracting his attention and curiosity.
This sort of experience is almost impossible to convey. Those who haven’t been on safari variously shake their heads in disbelief at our apparent exaggeration, state their envy as if it was as exciting but ultimately harmless as a roller-coaster ride or latch onto the terror of the event and state that they’d never want to be in that position. The veteran safari-goer however, merely nods her head sagely, understanding that the reality is an exquisite combination of beauty, awe and fear. In fact a safari – at least Botswana-style – is a study in contrasts, from the country to the lodgings to the animals themselves.
First off, I take of my metaphorical hat to the nation of Botswana. Despite a land-locked position in the center of the world’s most chaotic continent, the nation is a stable, functioning democracy with strong economic growth and a commitment to eco-tourism (it is now the second largest industry in the country after diamonds, of which Botswana is now the world’s largest exporter). With less than 2 million people in a country the size of France, it is sparsely populated and massive tracts of the country have been set aside as national parks. Various companies (such as our hosts, Wilderness Safaris) can get private concessions in the these parks to run photo safaris and set up “camps” (as opposed to hunting safaris, which still exist but are rare – the quotation marks will be explained later).
It may be best to describe the first impression you get upon arrival. After flying to Johannesburg (you can’t get anywhere in southern Africa without flying through Johannesburg) you transfer to a smaller commercial aircraft, probably for the town of Maun (we flew in via Victoria Falls, but that’s a story for another day). From there you transfer to light aircraft (usually a single engine prop) to a remote airstrip that serves between one and half a dozen individual camps. You might think that your safari really begins with this light aircraft flight since the distances are so short that you never go above 1,000 feet or so in altitude, which not only gives you panoramic views of the terrain, but which is also low enough to do a bit of game spotting if you’re lucky. On our own first approach we saw some giraffes from the air as well as some elephants. We thought we now knew what this safari thing was all about, but we had no idea of what was to come.
During our fly-in, the water was at its highest level in 90 years.
Upon landing you are met by an open Land Rover with a friendly driver (it doesn’t matter which driver, they are all friendly) and your feet barely touch the ground before you grab your gear (less than 40 pounds, mind, these are light aircraft) and step up into the stadium seating on the rear of the vehicle and are on your way. Enjoy this moment of dust on your boots – it’s one of the last times your souls will touch the earth before you board another aircraft for your departure in three days’ time. Your safari really begins here, on your drive to the camp, a drive that can last anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour depending on the camp.
Let’s go…
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