Having spent the last ten years as a desert archaeologist in the Namibian Diamond Area, or “Sperrgebiet”, I have had the opportunity to observe quite a selection of the local inhabitants. These have included snakes, scorpions, spiders, porcupines, honey badgers, mice, brown hyenas, rabbits, ticks, springbok, jackals, gemsbok, monkeys, baboons, ostriches and vultures.

While this inventory may seem sufficient to populate several nightmares, none of the creatures mentioned actually pose a threat to life or limb. All one has to do is to not leave food, clothing or bedding lying around, to sleep inside one’s vehicle and to stay out of naturally shady spots with sandy floors that are accessible to game. That way nothing uninvited will be able to cuddle up with you at night, lurk for you in your sleeping bag, lick your face first thing in the morning or go charging up your legs in search of your underpants. Oh, and please: treat the entire list exactly the way you would want it to treat you, will you? In other words, don’t get into anything’s face, and don’t mess with its kids or its home. Be polite. Does this mean that the desert is harmless? Nope, I'm afraid not! You see, there are the bees.

Yes, exactly: those cute little things that fills jars with honey and makes a buzzing sound. Well, in the right circumstances, they will kill you. No, they are not “killer bees”, and neither have they had an unhappy childhood. They are just plain old bees that want to get on with life. They are, however, also in the desert, and that is where the problems start. There are two scenarios. The first one normally begins with just one bee, who sort of buzzes around for a while, and then disappears. Before you know it, he is back with his friends, thousands of them, and within minutes they are all over you and your equipment. To you this may seem like an attack, causing you to panic and do something silly – like trying to run them down with your vehicle when they are on your friend, or trying to set them on fire with gasoline while they are in your hair. In the second scenario you are in a confined space, usually associated with a canyon or a cliff, when suddenly a swarm of bees rises up in front of you and attacks right away, not even giving you the time to do anything stupid.

What exactly happens in such cases, and how can trouble be avoided? Well, back to nature, and to the way bees work: in order to make honey, the bees need pollen and water. These two ingredients are not normally available in the desert, so the bees patiently hang out on the fringes of the waterless wasteland, waiting for better days in the form of some rain. And now for the surprise: it does actually rain in the desert – just not frightfully regularly. In fact, it is safe to suggest that, on average, it rains properly in the desert about once every ten years. Unusual as such an event may be, that is exactly what the desert is designed for. Everything that cannot get up and go – such as plants – are dormant in the form of seeds, bulbs, or dead-looking stuff that appears to be holding its biological breath. Everything that can move – such as the bees – has moved. As soon as it rains properly, everything starts growing, the movers return and there is water standing around all over the place. In no time whatsoever, Eden is in full swing again, and the bees are merrily at it, mugging plants for their pollen, making honey, and generally having a good time.

So far so good. Then, however, the desert starts drying out again, and open water becomes more and more difficult to find. The bees, however, cannot just leave, since they have a stock of honey and a collection of larvae to look after. In order to do this, they need open water. In no time they are absolutely desperate for any form of moisture. And then you arrive in your 4x4! The bees see the reflection of the sun off your windscreen, and think that it must be wet, so they fly over to investigate, bouncing first off your car windows, and then off your sunglasses. And, since you are probably thirsty and have water on hand, and since something, somewhere – if only the radiator – will be providing a few drops of moisture, the chances are that one of the bees will find it. At that point it informs the others, and then things get really interesting.

I was once on the point of having breakfast with another archaeologist, when a lonely bee turned up to investigate our camp. True to form, he buzzed off and came back with his friends. When I had nine bees swimming in my tea, I realised that something had to be done. Since, by watching them, I knew where the bees were coming from, I put a plastic basin with some water, a rock and a T-shirt in it about 10 m from our vehicles, in the direction of the nest. The bees, being highly efficient, very quickly worked out that the wet T-shirt was nearer to the nest than our camp, and all of them went for the T-shirt, leaving us to have our breakfast in piece. I thought that I was extremely clever until it was time to go. The bees were not about to let go of the T-shirt, even after I had up-ended the basin. In the end I had to abandon it. Ah well, at least it was good, biodegradable cotton!

So the lesson here is that, if bees bother you, set out some wet “bait” for them in the direction of their nest. Alternatively, don’t set up camp until the sun is below the horizon in the evening, and get moving before the sun is over the horizon in the morning. Bees, you see, need the sun to navigate, and will not leave home without it.

Sometimes, however, you do get caught unawares. I once pulled up in the middle of a dune field after a hard day’s driving, and rewarded myself with a sponge bath. I was just nicely soaked and soaped up when the single scouting bee found me. Well, I fast-forwarded my bath, but to no avail: The rest of the bees literally caught me with my pants down. So there I was, trying to get dried, dressed and away at the same time. I nearly made it too…. But one of the little devils dived into my jeans as I pulled them up. Yes, “ouch” indeed! Then, thank goodness, the sun hit the horizon. As the first rays of darkness cut through the remaining daylight, the buzzing harpies headed for home. Saved by the dark!

And now for the second scenario, that being where a cloud of bees materialises from nowhere and immediately attacks, rather than licks. Many years ago one of my colleagues lit up a pipe in a cave in the middle of nowhere. He had walked ahead of the rest of his party. Well, he ended up in hospital, both for the bee stings and for the burns he suffered when his friends beat the bees off him with burning branches! Several years ago two botanists were standing on a cliff in the diamond area. A swarm of bees rose, seemingly from their feet, and attacked them. They were badly stung, but managed to run away. In April this year, three hikers were attacked by bees in the Naukluft, in southern Nambia. Being in rocky, steep-sided terrain, they could not run. Two managed to save themselves by covering themselves in time with heaps of clothing. The other hiker, however, was overwhelmed, and died as a result of having suffered over 1000 bee stings… yes, not a very nice way to die.

So what happened? Well, after ten years of messing around in caves, looking for Bushman rock art and not yet having had a bad experience with bees, I guess that I have been lucky. Or have I?

People generally rob hives by smoking out the bees. It follows that wild bees that have been smoked out once or twice will soon connect the proximity of people or the smell of smoke (or both) with the robbing of their hive. So anybody coming near their hive with burning tobacco is not exactly going to see a red carpet laid out… or anything else until the swelling subsides.

It follows that, in my case, mainly having worked in an area where no other people were allowed, nobody ever had the chance to upset the bees before I got there. Also, I have been extremely careful, generally exhibiting the kind caution that comes with blind terror. I not only keep a lookout for bees, but always listen for them as well. An active nest, you see, is not only the epicentre of a large amount of bee activity, but also produces an unmistakable sound signature. When I hear that, I back off. Sure, I have probably missed out on some really neat archaeological sites in that way, but I’d rather be a live chicken than a stung lion!

So, don’t smoke EVER, keep your ears and eyes open, and try to see it from the point of view of the bees: if you are first inspected, and then gradually besieged by bees, they only want water, so either carefully remove yourself or give them water. If they arrive in a big cloud, they are seeing you as a threat. You should either flee at top speed or cover yourself up completely and wait them out. Better still, hear and see the hive before it becomes aware of you. Then give it an extremely wide berth.

Wasps? Keep a lookout for their nests. Then move slowly and please, don’t knock against anything. I once inspected a cave that was both laced with spectacular rock paintings and inhabited by a vast amount of wasps. I inched my way through there like a chameleon and was completely ignored. The cave, however, was next to a deep, emerald-green pool of water. One twitch from a wasp, and I would have been in that pool. Just as well the wasps did not twitch. I know nothing about crocodiles.