The Ghosts of Etosha Pan | Artist Reflection
I. The Desolate Pan
I park beneath the shade of a camel thorn tree, the windows open and a slight breeze washing through the vehicle.
A few metres away, springbok and zebra make their way towards a man-made waterhole. They drink their fill, then disappear towards the bushes, searching for shade from the scorching sun.
I pour myself a coffee and reflect on the morning.
It had been a frustrating start to the day. I had driven for almost five hours, covering around 150 kilometres, and seen very little wildlife. At this time of year, the waterholes would normally be alive with animals, but the rains had failed and the reserve had become a giant dust bowl.
At its heart lay Etosha Pan, a shimmering expanse of white stretching towards the horizon. One of Africa's great landscapes, but on this day it felt desolate.
I finish my coffee and continue my search.
Along the edges of the pan, natural springs bubble to the surface, creating life-giving streams and pools of calcrete mud. Elephants and rhinos often visit these pools during the hottest part of the day, coating themselves in mud to help protect their skin from the sun and parasites.
It seemed like the obvious place to wait.
When I arrived, the mud pools were empty.
I decided to stay anyway.
After seven hours of driving, I was tired. More than tired, really. I was discouraged. The landscape was enormous and silent, the wind barely moving through the heat.
I opened all the windows of the 4x4.
The smell of baked earth and pungent calcrete filled the vehicle.
I felt very small.
And very far from home.
My family were thousands of miles away, and in the stillness of that afternoon, thoughts of them came rushing in. My eyes filled with tears. I shook my head and wiped them away, almost embarrassed by my own reaction.
I had come here to make photographs.
Instead, I was sitting alone in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to photograph.
Then, just as I had given up hope, something appeared on the horizon.
At first it looked like a mirage.
A line of grey shapes shimmering through the heat and dust.
Ghosts.
Then they became clearer.
Elephants.
Trek of the Grey Ghosts of Etosha
II. The Giants
I lifted my binoculars, expecting to see a matriarchal herd.
I couldn't believe what I was looking at.
"Seven bull elephants," I said aloud.
I had never seen so many males moving together like this. They were enormous, marching silently and purposefully across the great expanse of the pan.
I put down my binoculars and simply watched.
Then the lead bull raised his trunk high into the air.
I lifted my camera.
Clicked.
The moment was gone.
But the photograph remained.
I drove ahead, anticipating the route they were taking. The track curved towards the direction they were heading, and I pulled off and waited.
This time I was patient.
Eventually, they appeared again.
They were marching directly towards me, one behind the other, following the track before veering slightly to pass around my vehicle.
As they drew closer, my heart began pounding.
They were enormous.
I sat completely still as the first bull approached.
The track took them just to the side of the 4x4, were they would pass within inches of me.
Then, just a few metres away, the lead bull flapped his enormous ears.
I lifted my camera.
Clicked.
In that instant, with his ears fully extended and the other bulls following behind him in single file, the whole scene came together.
It was one of those moments when you forget everything except the photograph in front of you.
It was also the moment I realised that the long, frustrating hours of driving and waiting had been worth it.
But Africa wasn't finished with me yet.
March of the Grey Ghosts of Etosha
Embrace the wisdom and strength of elephants in every piece of art.
III. The Old Survivor
As the seven bulls continued their slow march across the pan, I turned my head almost by accident.
And there he was.
A black rhino.
Standing at the edge of the reed bed.
Still.
Completely unbothered.
He was making his way towards the same spring as the elephants, drawn by the same thirst, but carrying himself with an entirely different sense of purpose.
The elephants were movement and power.
The rhino was silence.
I watched him for a long time.
There was something about his presence that stopped me in my tracks.
Perhaps it was the age in him. The sense that he had endured a world that had changed around him and simply carried on.
And there I was, sitting in my vehicle, thousands of miles from home, feeling sorry for myself because I hadn't made a photograph.
Yet here was one of Africa's ancient survivors, standing quietly in the heat.
Waiting for water.
Waiting for nothing.
Simply existing.
I don't think I will ever fully explain what that afternoon meant to me.
An hour earlier, I had been alone, exhausted and missing my family. I had wondered whether the day had anything left to give me.
Then it gave me seven bull elephants crossing Etosha Pan.
And a black rhino waiting quietly beside the reeds.
Two ancient animals.
Two very different kinds of strength.
Both drawn towards the same life-giving water.
I've photographed Africa for many years, and I've learned that it is rarely on my schedule.
Sometimes you drive all day and come home with nothing.
Sometimes you wait for hours in the heat and dust, wondering why you are still sitting there.
And sometimes, just when you have stopped expecting anything, Africa gives you everything.
These photographs will always be connected for me.
Not simply because they were made on the same afternoon, but because of what happened inside me between them.
I went there looking for photographs.
I left with something much more important.
A reminder that being far from home does not always mean being alone.
Sometimes the wild has a way of finding you when you need it most.
And sometimes, after a very long day, the day answers back.
Keitloa | Etosha, Namibia
Edition of 11 + 1 Artist's Proof
Art for Those Who Feel the Wild
In the Home
Keitloa in the Collector's Space
A fine art print is not simply acquired. It is welcomed into a space, where it becomes part of everyday life — a quiet presence that deepens with time.
Below, a selection of images shows Keitloa in private collections, where light, architecture, and art meet.
Edition of 11 + 1 Artist's Proof · Etosha, Namibia
