37 FramesProgress Over Perfection | Little by little, the life we build
📍Etosha National Park
The Myth of Big Change
We tend to think change happens in a moment. A job offer. A revelation. A turning point. But most of the time? It’s slower than that. Quieter.
It’s in the days that look like nothing special. The ones where you show up again and again and again. Where you put one foot in front of the other. Where you make the call, finish the email, do the training, take the walk, say the thing.
Where no one claps, no one sees… but you keep going anyway.
That’s the work. That’s the becoming.
And the more people we meet in this life … across cultures, across celebrations, across long wedding days and even longer drives, the more we realize:
Everyone’s building something.
A life. A dream. A family. A new way of being.
Even when it’s hard. Especially then.
The Road That Builds Us
This trip has taught us that movement isn’t just geographical. It’s emotional. Internal. A map of who we’ve been becoming.
And here, in the wild heart of Namibia, surrounded by animals that walk miles every day just to survive, you start to think about what endurance really means.
It’s not just stamina.
It’s belief. In something better. In something worthwhile. In a dream. In the next oasis … even if you can’t see it yet.
The Last Safari | The Stillness After the Storm
After the wild symphony of yesterday… lions at sunset, elephants in motion, cheetahs in the grass… today felt like a deep breath.
We ventured west through Etosha National Park’s quieter side, where the salt pans widen and the landscape opens into cinematic stillness. It was vast. Stark. Almost otherworldly in its spaciousness.
But the animals? They seemed to be on sabbatical.
A few tracks here. A far-off springbok there. Osteriches and zebras. A few wildebeest. But mostly… it felt like the wildlife had retreated, slipping behind the curtain after yesterday’s grand performance. We’d heard Etosha was like this. One day, it gives you everything. The next, it asks you to wait.
But if yesterday was all about the drama of big cats… stealth, power, and those camera-ready stares… then today? Today’s energy was decidedly more… feathered.
Enter the Kori Bustard, strutting through the golden Namibian grasslands like it owns the place (because it kind of does). With the elegance of a ballroom dancer and the sass of someone who knows they’re the heaviest flying bird in Africa, it’s a vibe shift we didn’t know we needed. Too heavy to fly often, too fabulous to care.
While cheetahs might chase the spotlight, this bird glides under the radar… literally. Welcome to bird day.
The Beauty of the West
Even without the constant hum of sightings, the west side of Etosha had its own magic.
There’s something hauntingly beautiful about the emptier corners of the park… where wind ripples through the grass and time stretches between horizons.
The landscape glowed differently here. Fewer vehicles. Fewer expectations. Just light, space, and the occasional silhouette in the distance.
It reminded us that not every moment on safari is meant to be filled.
Some are simply meant to be felt.
The Strut of the Secretary Bird
One of the rarest sights of the day wasn’t a predator on the prowl or a dramatic chase… it was a pair of Secretary Birds around the waterhole, strutting with all the theatrical flair of runway models crossed with velociraptors.
Tall, elegant, and unmistakable with their long legs and quill-like head feathers, they moved like dancers… part performance, part pursuit. We watched channeling our very best David Attenborough impressions, as one appeared to feed the other. We could only guess at what was happening and it one of those times that we truly wished we had a guide with us to explain the antics.
These raptors are not only striking, but symbolic. National emblems of both South Africa and Sudan. Renowned for their snake-stomping prowess and their ability to deliver precise, deadly kicks, seeing them here felt like an unexpected gift.
It was rare. We were mesmerised.
And it reminded us that not all drama on safari has teeth and claws… some of it wears feathers and walks like poetry.
And they might have finally turned Trace into a bird person.
Lapwings vs. Secretary Birds (Guest Stars: Giraffes)
We were trying to find out about the birds attacking the Secretary birds and found out they’re called Blacksmith Lapwings. And described as: fashion-forward warriors with opinions and a soundtrack.
The Lapwings were in full defence mode… tiny, fearless warriors taking on the much-larger Secretary birds with a flurry of wings and metallic shrieks. It was like watching a high-drama soap opera in feathers.
Meanwhile, in perfect Etosha fashion, two giraffes wandered into the frame like extras unaware they were on set, bent their beautiful necks, and started drinking as if none of it concerned them.
Chaos above, calm below. Just another wildlife scene where the supporting cast nearly stole the show.
A few more characters wandered into the scene, like a spontaneous casting call at the waterhole. A lone jackal, a Tawny Eagle swooped low with cinematic flair, and an oryx appeared stage right.
Lightning Strikes Twice
Later in the day, we returned to the same waterhole where the elephants strode in yesterday, determined and unforgettable.
We placed ourselves carefully. Just in case. And just like before… they came. This time, an hour earlier. Still majestic. Still commanding. Still very much in charge.
It wasn’t just déjà vu. It was a reminder: lightning does strike twice in Etosha. If you’re lucky. If you’re quiet. If you’re paying attention.
Zebra Mayhem on the Plains
And then there were the zebras. Not the stoic, grazing kind you often see in postcard. But a rowdy, raucous bunch that could only be described as teenage chaos in stripes.
They were playing… or fighting… or both. It was hard to tell. A blur of kicking legs, dramatic jumps, sharp turns, and unexpected nips. Dust clouds rose as they whirled around each other in what felt like a choreographed clash of hormones and hierarchy.
It was part ballet, part brawl, and entirely captivating.
We watched, equal parts amused and in awe, wondering if this was how zebra friendships were formed… or tested.
Whatever it was, it had energy.
And it was a reminder that even in the quieter corners of the park, the wild has its own way of stirring the dust.
A Parting Gift in the Dust
After the zebras finished their joyful display, our attention shifted to a slow, deliberate procession.
The elephants, who had shared the waterhole just moments before, were now marching off into the shimmering horizon. There was something ceremonial in their departure, as if they were giving us one final, graceful farewell.
No drama. No rush.
Just a quiet, magnificent goodbye etched into the dry Namibian earth.
Grateful for the Contrast
With fewer animal sightings today, the richness of the previous day came into even sharper focus. We realized just how extraordinary it had been. How rare. How unforgettable.
And just when we were settling into the quiet… the universe gave us one more unexpected moment.
Out on a vast, empty road… nothing but dust and horizon… we crossed paths with familiar faces. Friends we’d made back at Onduli Ridge, suddenly appearing like a mirage.
And with them? The incomparable Jason, their Ultimate Safaris guide, whose knowledge, warmth, and presence lit up the stillness.
What are the chances?
Namibia is big. The west side of Etosha is wide. And yet… here we all were. A reminder that the world is vast, but connection is small. And even on a day when the animals are hiding, the magic finds you in other ways.
Because this is Etosha.
Sometimes it roars. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it just smiles back at you on a dusty road and says, “Hey. Fancy meeting you here.”
The Quiet Finale
We ended the day at the edge of a pan, watching the light dissolve. There’s a hush that falls in places like this. A reverence. The kind that doesn’t need narration.
Just stillness. Just gratitude.
We thought about all the miles. All the gear. All the photos. All the days. But mostly, we thought about what it means to keep showing up.
For your people. For your art. For your life. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s slow. Especially when no one’s watching.
Because those are the days that build you.
Final Night with the Animals
Back at our chalet, we toasted our last night in Etosha with whatever was cold and whatever was left in the snack bag. We talked about life. About what we’ve learned. About what we’re still figuring out. And about how much we still love elephants.
Tomorrow, we begin the drive south. Toward winding down. Toward the return.
But not just yet. Tonight, we’re here. Present. Proud. Still building something beautiful … together.
One Last Night with the Wild
As the sun dipped low and the sky softened into twilight, we packed quietly… not quite believing it was our final night in Etosha, and the last pages of this journey were beginning to turn.
The park, the animals, the vastness… it was all beginning to settle into memory. As we found ourselves thinking back on everything, it was everything we’d felt, and the people who’d woven themselves into our story along the way that really had found a place in our hearts.
Later, tucked into bed, we watched the waterhole livestream… one last ritual before sleep. And just like that, a rhino appeared. Calm. Steady. Ancient.
We slipped on our shoes, walked out into the night, and stood beneath the stars.
No camera. No lens. Just presence.
A final goodbye to this chapter. A thank you to the wild.
Takeaways from a Day That Moved Quietly
- The small stuff is the big stuff.
- What we do with our days adds up … to a life.
- Even dust leaves a trail when the light hits just right.
- Progress isn’t loud. It’s loyal.
- Every human matters. Every dream counts.
Final Thought
You don’t have to finish the book to be proud of the chapter. Where you are right now is already a part of your story. Already worthy of being remembered.
We’ll leave Etosha tomorrow, but the lessons stay. The slow burn. The quiet awe. The deep understanding that what we’re doing … this work, this life, this travel … it all matters.
We matter.
You matter.
Even if the elephants are still cooler.
37 Frames
