Call of the wild - A once-in-a-lifetime experience of an African Safari is hard to beat. The author finds that out in Tsavo West, Kenya.
It was cold, but that wasn’t the reason I was trembling that night.
It was more due to a nice mix of excitement and fear for my life! Images of what I had seen that afternoon just wouldn’t go away, and the strange noises outside our eco-friendly hut in the middle of wilderness did their bit too. Label it as call of the wild or plain hysteria; I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.
We had planned our safari to Kenya and Tanzania after pouring over the Internet for hours. The more we got close to our date of departure, our excitement mounted. This was a brand new experience for city-bred people like us whose idea of wild animals did not extend beyond the screenings of Nat Geo Wild on television or a visit to the zoo. We would be sharing space with these animals this time and thus choosing a good travel agent was a major priority here.
However, nothing had prepared us for this state of hyper excitement that set in right from the moment we crossed the gates of Tsavo West National Park that morning. Maybe it was the open plains of the savannah, the sight of umbrella-shaped Acacia trees or the upside-down Baobab trees. Perhaps, the fact that it was so quiet all around, gave us a sense of adventure and exhilaration that we had least expected. Whatever it was, it was a feeling shared by us all — my husband and I, along with our two young children — as we clung to the raised up roof of our van while it sped along the red dirt road.
Tsavo West National Park, covering an area a little over 9,000 sq. km, was truly enormous. We drove down about 240 km south of Nairobi to reach Tsavo West. As we entered, we could see the vast bush land stretch for miles around us, fringed by volcanic mountain ranges. I clutched my heart when I realized that this is what the world really looked like all those millions of years ago when man was just another pebble in the ocean of evolution.
We stood and looked out of our open-roofed safari van and whooped in excitement as we started spotting birds we had never seen before and laughed in delight when herds of impalas and elands stood close to the road and watched us go by.
Huge elephants covered in red dust pulled down branches of trees to feed themselves as the little ones ran around and played. Those that got a bit too adventurous and strayed out of the group were sternly dragged back by their tails. The herds, mostly made up of mothers and aunts, were a fiercely protective lot and would not hesitate to charge if threatened. Our guide forbade us to step out of our vehicle, and we never felt the need to disobey him.
Although none of us mentioned it, we were all straining our eyes to catch sight of a yellow coat in the long grass. A lion for my entire kingdom, my heart kept saying. My head was saying something too.
All I could think of now was a film I had seen long ago, titled “The Ghost and the Darkness.” This was based on the true story of two huge lions that became man-eaters in 1898 and killed close to 135 Indian laborers who were in Tsavo to build a railway bridge across a river. According to Lt. Col. Patterson, who was in charge of that British-led project, the lions were maneless and huge in size. One of them was over nine feet in length and required eight people to carry the carcass after Patterson managed to kill it. The fact that all this happened in the vicinity of where we stood made me sweat a bit more than I should have. I was almost expecting to see a pair of intense red eyes sneak out of the dry, yellow grass and take a leap toward our vehicle. The man-eaters of Tsavo was more than just a story to me; it reminded me just how powerful nature was in comparison to man.
Our guide, Geoffrey, was watching our enthusiasm with motherly affection all the while as he communicated constantly in Swahili with other rangers and trackers on his radio. He suddenly turned around and asked us to sit with our belts on, as he was going to drive a bit rough for a distance. We sat down and did as he instructed. We proceeded for a kilometer or so at break-neck speed, dust rising from the dirt road and blurring our vision.
In a short, while Geoffrey gave a whoop of delight and brought the vehicle to a sudden halt, we got up from our seats and looked in the direction he was pointing. It was then that I saw them — the lionesses. They were massive and beautiful beasts, sitting among the long grass and looking straight at us. The majestic look said it all; we were in their territory now. I cannot say anything on behalf of the others, but I know I stopped breathing! I felt that the loud thumping noise emanating from the region of my chest could be heard all over the park!
We continued to click photographs, mechanically, and clutched each other silently as the animals got up to stretch their limbs and slowly amble to another spot. There were quite a few of them in that pride and it looked like they were resting after a meal. The lionesses licked each other clean and slumped on one another, softly rubbing their heads together. We watched them for a long time, absorbing everything and wondering how we would ever visit a zoo after this. The freedom etched in their movements was so natural; these animals were never meant for captivity.
We moved away after a while with a huge smile on all our faces. Just then, a group of zebras lifted their heads and stared at us, then started galloping alongside our van. Geoffrey stopped when he realized that they were running so frantically and trying to overtake us only because they wanted to cross the road!
As the day turned to early evening, we drove around the vast wilderness, watching in awe as groups of giraffes strode gracefully toward a water hole while zebras grazed peacefully and a host of gazelles raced by. The African sunset lived up to its reputation and lit up the sky with orange fire with trees framed black against it.
Our camp was perched on the Ngulia hillside and looked down on the plains below. We were told by our driver/guide that this was leopard domain. They, along with many other animals have been spotted many a time roaming within the campsite. It was thus very comforting to see a Masai escort us to our hut when we arrived; he carried a customary spear as the only weapon of defense. We were now in the open territory and were seriously warned not to step out of our rooms without the Masai escort.
Dinner was a beautiful affair. Our escort arrived on time and shepherded us to the dining area, which took our breath away. Right below us was a lighted water hole, and we could see herds of elephants patiently lining up for a drink. We whispered through our meal and listened to the noises down below. When we came back to our rooms after dinner, it was very dark outside and soon got even darker when the generator was turned off for the night!
Hence, there I was, armed with a lone torch, listening to the gentle snoring coming from the beds nearby, and my overactive imagination making me jump at every opportunity. I could see shadows everywhere and every little sound took on a much bigger meaning. Sometimes, it had a golden mane and other times, a beautifully spotted coat. I held my breath, expecting to hear sharp nails scraping the mesh on the window behind me, and I jumped when a warthog suddenly grunted very close to the steps of our hut. Perhaps it had been hunted down by something that crept up from the rocky ledges above! I couldn’t believe I was so close to the wild.
There were many more days of our safari to come, but this first day and night was unique as it gave me a taste of what was to follow. I could have sat on the balcony and watched the moonlight spread out before me, but frankly, I did not have the stomach for it. It was better to listen. Thoughts came to my head, stumbling and tripping over one another. All I could tell them was “Be quiet! Let the night talk!” ( arabnews.com )
It was cold, but that wasn’t the reason I was trembling that night.
It was more due to a nice mix of excitement and fear for my life! Images of what I had seen that afternoon just wouldn’t go away, and the strange noises outside our eco-friendly hut in the middle of wilderness did their bit too. Label it as call of the wild or plain hysteria; I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.
We had planned our safari to Kenya and Tanzania after pouring over the Internet for hours. The more we got close to our date of departure, our excitement mounted. This was a brand new experience for city-bred people like us whose idea of wild animals did not extend beyond the screenings of Nat Geo Wild on television or a visit to the zoo. We would be sharing space with these animals this time and thus choosing a good travel agent was a major priority here.
However, nothing had prepared us for this state of hyper excitement that set in right from the moment we crossed the gates of Tsavo West National Park that morning. Maybe it was the open plains of the savannah, the sight of umbrella-shaped Acacia trees or the upside-down Baobab trees. Perhaps, the fact that it was so quiet all around, gave us a sense of adventure and exhilaration that we had least expected. Whatever it was, it was a feeling shared by us all — my husband and I, along with our two young children — as we clung to the raised up roof of our van while it sped along the red dirt road.
Tsavo West National Park, covering an area a little over 9,000 sq. km, was truly enormous. We drove down about 240 km south of Nairobi to reach Tsavo West. As we entered, we could see the vast bush land stretch for miles around us, fringed by volcanic mountain ranges. I clutched my heart when I realized that this is what the world really looked like all those millions of years ago when man was just another pebble in the ocean of evolution.
We stood and looked out of our open-roofed safari van and whooped in excitement as we started spotting birds we had never seen before and laughed in delight when herds of impalas and elands stood close to the road and watched us go by.
Huge elephants covered in red dust pulled down branches of trees to feed themselves as the little ones ran around and played. Those that got a bit too adventurous and strayed out of the group were sternly dragged back by their tails. The herds, mostly made up of mothers and aunts, were a fiercely protective lot and would not hesitate to charge if threatened. Our guide forbade us to step out of our vehicle, and we never felt the need to disobey him.
Although none of us mentioned it, we were all straining our eyes to catch sight of a yellow coat in the long grass. A lion for my entire kingdom, my heart kept saying. My head was saying something too.
All I could think of now was a film I had seen long ago, titled “The Ghost and the Darkness.” This was based on the true story of two huge lions that became man-eaters in 1898 and killed close to 135 Indian laborers who were in Tsavo to build a railway bridge across a river. According to Lt. Col. Patterson, who was in charge of that British-led project, the lions were maneless and huge in size. One of them was over nine feet in length and required eight people to carry the carcass after Patterson managed to kill it. The fact that all this happened in the vicinity of where we stood made me sweat a bit more than I should have. I was almost expecting to see a pair of intense red eyes sneak out of the dry, yellow grass and take a leap toward our vehicle. The man-eaters of Tsavo was more than just a story to me; it reminded me just how powerful nature was in comparison to man.
Our guide, Geoffrey, was watching our enthusiasm with motherly affection all the while as he communicated constantly in Swahili with other rangers and trackers on his radio. He suddenly turned around and asked us to sit with our belts on, as he was going to drive a bit rough for a distance. We sat down and did as he instructed. We proceeded for a kilometer or so at break-neck speed, dust rising from the dirt road and blurring our vision.
In a short, while Geoffrey gave a whoop of delight and brought the vehicle to a sudden halt, we got up from our seats and looked in the direction he was pointing. It was then that I saw them — the lionesses. They were massive and beautiful beasts, sitting among the long grass and looking straight at us. The majestic look said it all; we were in their territory now. I cannot say anything on behalf of the others, but I know I stopped breathing! I felt that the loud thumping noise emanating from the region of my chest could be heard all over the park!
We continued to click photographs, mechanically, and clutched each other silently as the animals got up to stretch their limbs and slowly amble to another spot. There were quite a few of them in that pride and it looked like they were resting after a meal. The lionesses licked each other clean and slumped on one another, softly rubbing their heads together. We watched them for a long time, absorbing everything and wondering how we would ever visit a zoo after this. The freedom etched in their movements was so natural; these animals were never meant for captivity.
We moved away after a while with a huge smile on all our faces. Just then, a group of zebras lifted their heads and stared at us, then started galloping alongside our van. Geoffrey stopped when he realized that they were running so frantically and trying to overtake us only because they wanted to cross the road!
As the day turned to early evening, we drove around the vast wilderness, watching in awe as groups of giraffes strode gracefully toward a water hole while zebras grazed peacefully and a host of gazelles raced by. The African sunset lived up to its reputation and lit up the sky with orange fire with trees framed black against it.
Our camp was perched on the Ngulia hillside and looked down on the plains below. We were told by our driver/guide that this was leopard domain. They, along with many other animals have been spotted many a time roaming within the campsite. It was thus very comforting to see a Masai escort us to our hut when we arrived; he carried a customary spear as the only weapon of defense. We were now in the open territory and were seriously warned not to step out of our rooms without the Masai escort.
Dinner was a beautiful affair. Our escort arrived on time and shepherded us to the dining area, which took our breath away. Right below us was a lighted water hole, and we could see herds of elephants patiently lining up for a drink. We whispered through our meal and listened to the noises down below. When we came back to our rooms after dinner, it was very dark outside and soon got even darker when the generator was turned off for the night!
Hence, there I was, armed with a lone torch, listening to the gentle snoring coming from the beds nearby, and my overactive imagination making me jump at every opportunity. I could see shadows everywhere and every little sound took on a much bigger meaning. Sometimes, it had a golden mane and other times, a beautifully spotted coat. I held my breath, expecting to hear sharp nails scraping the mesh on the window behind me, and I jumped when a warthog suddenly grunted very close to the steps of our hut. Perhaps it had been hunted down by something that crept up from the rocky ledges above! I couldn’t believe I was so close to the wild.
There were many more days of our safari to come, but this first day and night was unique as it gave me a taste of what was to follow. I could have sat on the balcony and watched the moonlight spread out before me, but frankly, I did not have the stomach for it. It was better to listen. Thoughts came to my head, stumbling and tripping over one another. All I could tell them was “Be quiet! Let the night talk!” ( arabnews.com )
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