We drove up to the ranger station and picked up our tracker, Stephanie. This woman was the definition of everything cool. Short and muscular, with smooth skin and large dark eyes, she wore green fatigues and had an old rifle slung over her shoulder. The weapon, she assured us, was for firing into the air to scare animals, though he did once have to shoot an elephant with it.
We followed Stephanie down a steep path into the ravine. I was bummed that she'd made Kristen and I change into long pants, but I understood why as soon as we entered the forest. Prickly seeds and burrs clung to every surface, and mosquitoes buzzed at the decibel level of a medium-sized symphony. Surprisingly, it was much cooler down in the gorge, despite the humidity. The luxurious foliage provided a welcome relief from the ruthless afternoon sun. Huge, majestic trees, covered in intricate vines, rose up to the heavens above. Birds and monkey calls echoed through the green halls. It was a different world, condensed into a narrow valley.
The tracking was supposed to last two hours. For the first one and a half, we meandered through the forest. There were several false alarms in which we mistook various monkeys and baboons for chimps. I have to admit, I didn't understand why Stephanie pointed out the ring-tailed monkeys with such disappointment. So what if they weren't chimps? Why were they less revered? At any rate, I was having a very good time just walking. I fell into an almost meditative state. My thoughts slowed to a calm, meandering stream; by breathing steadied; the sweat dripping down my face rinsed off the layer of dust and made me feel cleaner. It was silent, but for our soft footsteps and the melodious birdcalls.
Towards the end of our trek, we came across a stream of moderate width. I assumed there was a log somewhere to cross--that's how we'd traversed a large river before--but instead, Stephanie simply lept across, landing on the opposite bank with the grace of a leopard. I looked at her. "Uh-Oh," I muttered. Despite my height, I'm no long jumper. I lack the impulse to just go. As I stood there, contemplating my actions, the boys took running jumps and joined Stephanie across the stream. I noted with hidden pleasure that they weren't nearly as graceful as our intrepid guide. It was just Kristen and me left. I took a deep breath, chose a spot on the other side, and pushed off the ground. To my pleasant surprise, I made it; only one sneaker got a bit mired in mud. Kristen, unfortunately, was not so lucky: she landed smack in the middle of the stream. Stephanie looked on calmly as her loud charges dissolved into laughter.
Our walk was coming to a muddy and chimp-less close. I was a little disappointed, but I'd seen lions that morning, for crying out loud. And the forest was beautiful. That was plenty for me. Then, almost in response to my self-appeasing thoughts, Stephanie stopped us short. "There are chimps here," she whispered, pointing up to a nearby tree. Our eyes followed her outstretched arm. Sure enough, perched up in the branches was a large chimp, calmly munching leaves. We stared up at her in awe. She seemed reluctant to emerge from the thick upper branches and give us a better look. After several minutes, though, she decided the eating was better on the lower branches and climbed down. She faced us, a little higher than eye-level, barely 10 yards away. She was beautiful. Now I understood what the big fuss was about chimps. While I admire all the animals I saw for their instinctive grace and purpose, this primate was different. There was something familiar, something understanding, behind those eyes. She regarded us with the gentle indifference, thinking about other things I could only imagine. To her left, a baby chimp hid shyly behind the leaves. He beat the branch with his fists in an adorable attempt to scare us away. They mother and child were fantastic to behold.
All was peaceful until Dom moved subtly to take a better shot. The mother froze. She stared him in the eyes and screamed. Dom yelled back. The mother coiled and sprung out of the tree. We scattered. "No, do not run!" said Stephanie calmly. We froze and looked up. The mother was meandering on all fours over the log bridge. Her baby hung comfortably underneath her belly. It turns out the real reason for her flight was not us, but a band of neighboring chimps who had claimed this side of the river. She heard their warning calls and retreated to her own side. For a minute, though, we had been nervous. The mother of a small child, whether chimp or human, is a fierce warrior when she needs to be.
What a day we'd had. We recounted all we'd seen, not quite believing our words. After another prolonged dinner at the canteen (fish this time, caught right from the channel), we headed back to the campsite to say hello to our neighbors, who'd invited us for tea. Jean and Terry were a retired British couple who had converted their Landrover into a Wild Thornberrys-esque camper. The screened sleeping tent perched on top, and laundry was strung on a line connected to the front grill. Pouring hot water from a pot heated on an electric plate, they asked us our stories and told their own. They had driven up from South Africa and were planning to cross up through the Middle East (politics permitting) and Europe, finally taking a ferry back to the UK. They'd made the same journey back in the 70s, when Africa was a very different place. I asked how that trip went. "Oh, very good," replied Jean. "We were only arrested once, in Egypt."
Needless to say, I sincerely admired this couple. Full of good cheer, generosity, and the spirit of adventure, they travelled the continent, learning from and sharing with others. They'd pulled a bread truck out of the mud in the Congo and walked the empty beaches of Mozambique. They were brave but careful, optimistic but shrewd. If I can have half their spirit, half their married companionship, I will be very happy indeed.
We went back to the canteen and found ourselves engulfed in a raucous for Manchester United. For most Africans, this team can do no wrong. They love Man U- they have songs, cheers, and feasts to celebrate its victories. I ended up joining the dance party. When "Waka waka" came on, I jumped up and down. When the DJ humored my request for "Waving Flag" (David Bisbal version!), I thought I'd die of happiness. This small canteen, so deserted the night before, now had all the energy of a city nightclub. Out there in the darkness, the lions prowled and the hyenas cackled. But inside, the drinks flowed and the music blared. Once again, incomprehensible. But wonderful.
The next morning we awoke early for one last game drive. It was sunny and warm, and we were having a lovely, relaxed time gazing out over the savannah. We even spotted a large group of lions, about a football field away. This was more great luck. Satisfied, we started our circuit back to the main road, where we'd catch the bus home. For some reason, though, Robert decided to take a small side road through a field (a legal one mind you.) And there, lurking in the grass were the lions. 9 of them. Another vehicle pulled up next to ours.
"They want to cross the road," someone breathed.
Sure enough, after a few moments contemplation, the first lioness loped across the dirt track. She was gorgeous. She walked as though she had nothing to worry about; the world would wait for her. She didn't even seem phased by the two large metal contraptions 10 feet away. On the other side of the road, she found a large rock, limbed it, and sat facing the sun like a queen on her throne.
The others followed in sequence. One by one, the 7 females and two young males ambled right in front of us. It was breathtaking. Again, I couldn't believe that these animals just lived here. We were visiting them at home, and they had deigned to allow us an intimate glance into their lives. When it was over, we looked at each other and laughed in disbelief. What incredible luck. Some people don't manage to see a single lion during a safari, and we'd seen a total of 11. Not to mention all the other amazing creatures. We felt truly blessed by a benevolent savannah.
The ride home was hot and dusty. My bones were sore from sleeping on the ground, and I was pretty disgusting from 4 days without bathing. But I couldn't let my discomfort faze me. It was a very small price to pay for an incredible weekend. We always talk about the wonders of nature, but it's easy to get caught up in civilization and forget about the true, ineffable glory of what's around us. Perfect mathematical patterns, acts of humility and selflessness, bravery and cruelty, beauty beyond measure... it's all out there. If we want to begin to contemplate it, we must simply look around us and notice the figures hiding in the grass.
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| Remember to look both ways! |
Misty sunrise
Aren't they precious?!
Thoughtful mama
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| With Stephanie, pro tracker |
Stay cool, my friends.
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