"Tables Are Turned" in Tanzania

While writing postcards mid-way through our ten-day safari in northern Tanzania, I commented that it's difficult to imagine these animals as actually wild and living in their environment. Roaming across the Savanna in our Toyota Land Cruiser (TM) felt more similar to a drive through the San Diego Zoo. In reality, though, the tables had been turned. We were the caged animals roving across the countryside and gawking at the wildlife while they stared back, free. It was plain to see we were the awkward guests. We were well out of place and unfamiliar with the dangers associated with walking into the tall grasses surrounding our camp sites or climbing a nearby boulder. These included (with no exaggeration): black mambas and spitting cobras, scorpions, maniacal baboons, leopards on high and lions down low, and grazing Cape buffalo (a criminally insane herbivore and the most feared animal in Africa). With this in mind, we were confined to the public campsite or the vehicle at all times. It was recommended that we stay in our tents during the night--as if a soft-shelled tent was reassuring protection from hungry predators and their teeth, fangs, claws, and horns. This arrangement was agreeable to all--neither T nor I wanted to learn how effective our emergency medical evacuation insurance was in Tanzania.

Daily, we woke up just before dawn; we warily inspected the immediate surroundings of the tent with the indispensable flashlight before exposing our tender, fleshy parts. We headed out for morning and evening game drives with Ayubu as our knowledgeable guide, capable driver, and eagle-eyed spotter. The drives consisted of standing on our seats for several hours with our top-halves poking through the roof of the bouncing car--we looked like meerkats on a road-trip. Our task was to peer across endless dry plains looking for hints of movement or conspicuous variations in shading or color. At times we were lucky and the wildlife was confident enough to walk near us, passing so close we could count their whiskers and eyelashes. Of the 6,000+ pictures taken, we've included just a few of these close encounters in the photo album.

Nightly, we returned to delicious meals cooked by our amazing and resourceful field chef, Remy. We reviewed our pictures and reminisced about the day's lucky sightings. Exhausted, bruised, and rather dirty, we would retire early to our tents, eager to do it all again the next day. By our third night camping, it actually seemed pretty safe within the mowed confines of our campsite; the animals were outside, beyond the tall grass and hopefully in distant parts of the park. We felt comfortable enough to pitch our tent at the edge of the camp.

While returning to our tent in the dark after dinner, our invisible barrier from the wild was shattered by the sound of...elephants. It was not the sound of munching on thorny acacias or blowing dirt on themselves, their two favorite activities, but rather the sound of elephants trumpeting at the top of their trunks(?) while stampeding around the periphery of our campsite. We could not see anything, but we could tell there were a lot of them, they were within fifty feet, they were moving fast, and they were upset. Cautious but intrigued, we stood near our tent at the edge of the tall grass, peering into the darkness. Then we heard the sound of a lion's roar to our right, close enough to feel its vibration. We felt a little more exposed and a little less intrigued. T suggested we duck in to the tent and I quickly followed, though in the back of my mind, I wondered if being trapped in the path of a rampaging elephant was really that much safer. The blaring and roaring continued for several minutes from, what seemed like, all around us. We kept watch through all four mosquito screens to no avail.

Sadly, the beginning of this story is more exciting than the end; the noises subsided after a few minutes and nothing had entered the campsite. The clouds blew away from the full moon and we could hear and see the elephants feeding nonchalantly in the tall grasses. We brushed our teeth warily in the nearby bathrooms and wondered if the lions were still watching us from the outside. As we tried to sleep, their infrequent growling reminded us they were still near. Maybe the San Diego Zoo would have been a better idea.