I have spent a considerable amount of my life waiting in airports. Missed flights, delayed flights, canceled flights, bad weather, mechanical difficulties, or just your everyday average connection time between flights. Over the course of my career, I’ve seen it, experienced it, and suffered through it all.
In the early years of my career, I traveled every couple of months to visit projects, run trainings or facilitate conferences. Most often, my work travels took me to Africa and typically East Africa. If I had a free day or weekend on my trips, I would head out on safari and visit the national parks or game reserves.
Safari in Kenya
In Kenya, my favorite place to go was the Masai Mara. I’d take a small plane to one of the many tented camps in the reserve. The camp schedule was perfect for unwinding. You’d start with a sunrise game drive, returning back to camp for breakfast. Breakfast was followed by time for reading by the river or walking around camp. Lunch was at 1 PM, followed by nap time when the afternoon heat was at its height. The afternoon game drive would leave about 4:00 PM, back to camp at sunset for drinks and dinner.
On the safari game drives, you share the vehicle with other guests, up to six to a land rover plus the guide/driver. Where you went and what you saw was up to the guide, but he also wanted to please his guests. Understandably, tourists, in Kenya for the first time, always had a bucket list of wildlife they wanted to see, and we’d race around the reserve checking off the list. You’d pull up to a giraffe, click a few pictures and then it was off to find the next animal. The guides would share information on the radio so if the animal was a “high value” animal, like a lion, leopard, or cheetah you’d soon be joined by several other vehicles with tourists snapping pictures and vehicles jockeying for the best position.
Afternoon Heat
Occasionally, I would go to the Mara with colleagues or friends, and we’d have the land rover to ourselves, setting our own agenda. On one particular trip, I was traveling with a film director and cameraman. They decided we should skip the normal afternoon nap and take the jeep out. It was their day off, so we took no cameras, only binoculars. Afternoon heat meant not a lot of wildlife activity, but we drove to a spot on the edge of the forest that lined the Mara River. We parked in the shade of an acacia tree, turned off the motor and waited. To the left was the vast African savannah grasslands dotted by the occasional thorn tree or termite hill. It was just after the long rains, so the plains were covered with grass up to your knees. To the left was a line of yellow-fever trees hiding the river. In front of us, across a clearing with a fallen decaying log, was a shaded meadow backed by a thick thatch of bushes and forest of trees.
Settling In
As we settled in, we could hear the babbling sound of the river as it made its way across the rocks. A fish eagle soared overhead. The reed frogs sounded like cow bells in the distance. Without the hum of the car engine, we could hear the soothing lullaby of the birds in the trees around us. The waterbucks were laying down in the shady meadow, the zebra, impala, and gazelle wandered about quietly munching on grass at the edge of the savannah. An eland stood off in the distance under the shade of a baobab tree.
With our feet up, we took in the sights and sounds of the Mara. We sat in silence watching, waiting with no anticipation. We enjoyed the quiet nothingness all around us. After a good bit of time, 30 to 40 minutes, there was a little rustle in the bushes and we saw a parade of tails at attention, in a straight line following one after the other, as a family of warthogs trotted into the clearing. They did not stop and hurriedly kept moving towards the savannah and the cover of tall grass. Only the tips of their tails were visible as they moved deeper into the grass.
A Forest Quiet
A loud chatter joined the chorus of birds as vervet monkeys enveloped the forest trees. They made their way to trees closest to us, swinging from limb to limb in search of fruit or perhaps just having some fun. They played for a while in the trees as we watched but then moved on.
The quiet returned. The grazing animals continued to relax in the still air. They had made no change with the passing warthogs and monkeys. But suddenly, there was an agitation amongst the animals. The impala and gazelle sprinted off en masse. The zebra trotted away toward the plains. The waterbuck arose from their shady naps and moved quickly after the others. The eland had disappeared.
After a few minutes, we watched as two lioness and their cubs came out of the bushes. The mothers walked with intent while the young one’s ran and pounced on each other as they made their way behind their mothers. One of the cubs stopped to try to climb the fallen log. He swung on a short branch as he toppled back to the ground. The cub sprinted after his mom and siblings, disappearing into the line of trees. Several minutes after the lions, a single hyena loped into the clearing and headed in the direction of the lions.
A Return to Life
There was a period of silence after the lions passed by but soon the sounds of birds began to fill the air and gradually, after a great deal of time, the impala, then the gazelle returned to the meadow. There was a soft crackling of leaves in the forest as three giraffe stepped out. They wandered along the tree line grabbing a bite or two of leaves as they slowly made their way. They disappeared around the bend just as the waterbucks returned, finding shade again along the line of trees.
Next, a troop of baboon came marching in from the grass. Babies clung to their mamas back and the toddlers tussled along beside. The troop stopped at the log and took up residence. A session of preening and grooming began. The antelope gave the baboons space but did not leave. There was a muted quiet with animals snoozing, the baboons chatting softly and the occasional ka’ka, ka’ka of a hornbill. Time passed as we all took in the sweltering heat.
Baboon Warning
Suddenly the baboons began to screech. There was a mass movement of animals from the clearing, the forest came alive with the sound of scurrying feet and squawking birds, the earth shook and a large elephant broke through the trees followed by a herd of 10 – 15 elephants. They came crashing through, a symphony of breaking branches. They were about 50 feet in front of us, but we were downwind. We sat quietly, hoping they didn’t discover us. They took their time eating the bushes, the larger elephants circling the babies in the middle, the teenagers intertwined their trunks playing and trying to lift the log in the clearing. They munched on the bushes and pulled down low branches. Eventually, the matriarch signaled it was time to move on and they made their way around the bend and back into the forest.
The edge of the clearing was covered in broken branches, the birds flew in to gather the seeds that had been disturbed. A majestic, crested crane appeared and pecked the ground where the elephants had walked. A large flock of guinea fowl scurried along the path of the elephants, picking up insects stirred up by their steps. Just as before, the impala, gazelle, and waterbuck returned to graze, the birds took up their song again and the jingle of reed frogs became louder. A line of zebra and wildebeest headed across the plains as the sun began to set. We started the engine and drove back to our camp.
Over the years, I have been on many, many safaris. But the ones I remember are the ones where we watched the ebb and flow of life and waited for Africa to come to us.
