Serengeti Safari - Memories and Miscommunications
The scene before me could be matched nowhere else on earth.
Parched yellow grass spread out before us as far as the eye
could see - broken only by the occasional umbrella tree and a
few hundred thousand migrating wildebeest forming a dusty, thin
gray line on the horizon to the north. As the sun pounded down
from overhead, heat vapors danced up from the ground. This was
the Serengeti - a place with no equal!
Nine days earlier my six-year-old son, Jerry, and I had arrived
in Arusha, a beautiful Tanzanian 'metropolis' and the main
jumping off point for those wishing to book budget safaris. As
with all visitors, the word of our arrival spread like wildfire.
By dinner the first night, three of Arusha's tour operators were
courting us. By breakfast our journey was booked.
Two days later we were off. Nothing was left to chance. A jeep,
driver, cook, tents, water (though I felt it best to bring my
own) and park permits, were to be provided for us as part of our
safari package.
WILDLIFE ABOUNDS
Five days of photographic heaven followed. Tanzania's best: Lake
Manyara, Ngorongoro Crater, Olduvai Gorge all were our
playgrounds. Each was an oasis offering its own unique landscape
and unimaginably diverse wildlife. Finally, as I looked over the
edge of Ngorongoro I put my camera down. No photo could do it
justice. Those who do not venture there will just never know!
All this grandeur, and still the place of my calling, the
Serengeti, was ahead. This was the safari I had dreamed of.
An inconspicuous signpost in the middle of nowhere marked our
arrival at my 14, 763 square km. field of dreams. We had four
days to spend in the Serengeti. Yet, within twenty minutes
giraffes galloped past in their slow-motion way. Playful zebras
danced in dust storms of their own creation. Nearby, lionesses
lovingly groomed playful cubs. This life long fantasy achieved
was all laid out for our film to capture. What more did we need?
I know we needed a drink of water. I reached, I looked, I
counted, one! There was one bottle of water alone in its box.
Next, I added. Two people, six days out, three days left, 13
bottles of water gone. I suspected a flaw in the plan. With
little choice, I begrudgingly surrendered the last bottle of
'good' water to my progeny. I would drink the questionable water
provided by the safari operator the rest of the trip. Why not?
After all, It was a safari.
An hour later, still roasting in our jeep, we photographed an
incredible golden lion as he lazed in the mid-day sun. This
magnificent beast was obviously oblivious to our presence. His
bed, a gigantic reddish brown termite mound standing over three
feet high, could easily have slept two more.
FRUSTRATION MAKES AN APPROACH
Inspired, and thirsty, it was time to go forth with the courage
of that lion and consume the mystery water. Thomas, my driver,
was a spotlessly tidy, smartly dressed, obviously well washed
and well-watered fellow. As I approached, he flashed his perfect
smile and asked what I needed. Water I replied. Thomas looked
'off.' "Ninataka maji ya kunywa" I tried. (attempting Swahili
for I need drinking water) Ah, Thomas replied, "Maji hapana"
(meaning no water). I tried English again. We still had no
water.
I am sure my body temperature rose five degrees as I tried to
figure out why Thomas had not brought any water from camp that
day. Then, it rose another eight degrees while I tried to figure
out why he did not need to drink anything. Oh well, we would
soon return to camp where I would indulge in all the beige
colored water I could ever hope for. I decided to tough it out.
Se la vies. We were on a safari.
As evening approached, we relaxed in the shade near a water
hole. The sweet sent of cool water filled the air. The emerald
green pool shivered ever so slightly with each twitch of a
hippo's ear. When the sun sank low, the parched orange horizon
beckoned for one last snapshot. It was time our crew headed for
camp.
Meanwhile, back at the camp, our cook had dinner ready and
waiting. Before the Jeep stopped my door was open. I approached
him parched, "maji ya kunywa?" I said. He responded, "maji
hapana." "I mean water," I regrettably snapped. "You must have
some to drink!" Both Thomas and the cook shook their heads 'no'
and looked at me as if I was crazy for thinking anyone would
have water in the bush. Didn't I know I was on safari?
Not being parent of the year, I took my sons water - some of it
anyway. We put the rest away for morning.
CONTEMPLATING THE SITUATION
I sat grudgingly at dinner watching my son, my driver and my
cook, all laughing together on the man side of the camp. As a
zoologist, I knew they had to have water, didn't they? Just how
stupid did they think I was? Then the questions swam through my
mind. How could we stay out here nearly three more days without
any more water? What happened to the water the Tour Company
agreed to send? What did the cook cook with? How was Thomas
staying so freaking clean? If I killed my offspring and took his
water, do they extradite me or would I stand trial in Tanzania?
And, just how stupid did they think I was?
That night I sat by the fire under the most brilliantly lit sky
I have ever seen. I sat speaking to Thomas, explaining that Homo
Sapiens consumed water. It was a necessity! It was a fact! He
didn't buy it for a second. Ultimately, I gave up. I told my
crew we would have to return to Arusha the next day. Had I been
alone, I would have risked death by dehydration for one more
day, but the PTA frowns on this sort of thing. Obviously annoyed
by my insane whims the guys turned in.
The remainder of the night was dedicated to reflecting on days
past, on our incredible experiences and on something else -
something odd. The previous morning while we drove through a
dust-ridden wallow, we had approached a Maasai Warrior walking
barefoot through the grasslands. Thomas pulled near to ask of
cheetahs and such. As they spoke, I eyeballed this magnificent
looking man who leaned against the front of our jeep. His long,
twisted strands of hair were red with ocher and draped elegantly
down his perfectly built back. He wore the traditional red
Maasai fabric that was slightly tattered. In his right hand was
a spear, pointed at both ends. In his left hand was the less
traditional orange Fanta. Yes, I did a double take. It remained
an orange Fanta. Thinking back, I recalled droplets of
condensation. I was sure it was cold. I could not even come up
with H2O, well enough a refreshing sugary beverage. Was I
hallucinating? Was I even on safari?
VANISHING THROUGH THE BUSH
The sweltering heat of morning came all to soon. Breakfast with
thick condensed milk, missed the spot completely and reconfirmed
my decision to leave. The cook and I began to pack up camp.
Jerry and Thomas (Tom and Jerry?) wandered into the bush
together long before the work was finished - surprise! Whenever,
I started any project the men tended to fade into the trees. In
fact, completing the task at hand, I realized my
moisture-retaining chef had vanished. An hour later no one had
returned.
I was guarding our waterless belongings from a troop of
misschevious baboons and could not go in search of my three
self-osmoting delinquents. Besides, If the men perished, it
would prove to them my theory that they needed water to live.
Ha! I would be vindicated! Ritchesness would prevail! Thus
instead, I sat filming my new found primate friends. After all,
I was still on safari?
Half an hour later the guys emerged from the bush, talking
casually as they slurped on their strawberry Fantas. My mouth
dropped. Jerry nonchalantly pointed off behind them as he passed
and asked, "Mom, why didn't you came to the soda stand with us?
You could at least have gotten some bottled water."
I stood defining dumbfounded! Were they slurping away each time
they vanished? What was a soda stand doing in the middle of...?
Why hadn't someone just said it was...? Ah..? Was there a
Denny's in there as well? How silly of me to have expected them
to mention this. Auuuuuug! Hadn't I realized I was on a safari?