“All I wanted to do now was get back to Africa. We had not left it, yet, but when I would wake in the night I would lie, listening, homesick for it already.” — Ernest Hemingway, “Green Hills of Africa”
His name was Andrew, his father is a Masai elder, and wrapped in the red cloth of his people, he was explaining things.
“In Masai communities,” he said, “for the first lady for a man to marry, your father will look for you, from a different family. No blood kin. Then he will bring nine cows. But for the second one, I seek for myself, then we can negotiate . . . “
The next words were lost.
Because as he spoke to our little group on a lawn mowed by warthogs, behind him six giraffes were walking that slow, elegant walk across an acacia-dotted plain that was so thoroughly, quintessentially, delightfully African . . .
It is almost impossible to effectively describe the succession of amazing moments that ultimately define a safari into East Africa. To try inevitably reduces them to lists–of animals, of incidents, of photo ops–and what we have then is no more magical than listing a cruise ship’s roster of shore excursions.
Risking that, here’s an incident.
We had just photographed a pride of lions scattered about a few square yards of knee-high savanna: three lionesses, eight cubs. Most, being lions, were either sleeping or trying to sleep, and for the seven of us with cameras in our mostly open Land Rover, the challenge was catching one with its head up and its eyes open.
Which we did.
As we drove off, we spotted a fourth lioness. She was alone, on the other side of the road, crouched in the grass–and her attention was on a small mixed herd that included a few wildebeests and about a dozen zebras.
Our driver/guide, Willie, stopped the car. There were some whispers. The seven checked cameras, some digital and some not, for film, for power levels.
And we waited.
Author Philip Caputo, a long-ago friend and colleague, wrote this in “Ghosts of Tsavo: Stalking the Mystery Lions of East Africa”: “The mossy cliche from the literature of big-game hunting `We dared not breathe’ suddenly did not seem quite so cliched.”
We dared not breathe.
The lion moved closer, then crouched again. From time to time zebras’ heads would rise and face in the lion’s direction, and then, as if they’d sensed nothing of interest, the heads would go back down to the grass. Once more, the lion moved closer, staying low. Curiously, by now most of the herd had quietly retreated, while one zebra had stayed where it was–and it was clear this one zebra was being measured by this one lion, which was now less than 100 feet away.
Closer, the lion crept. Then it stopped, and watched, absolutely still. Again, it moved closer, and paused. And then, its rear legs tensed, ready to spring–
And a bird screeched.
The zebra’s head snapped upward. A second bird, circling the zebra, let out a second screech. The lion sprang–but the zebra, startled by the alarm, had scrambled out of pounce-range toward the rest of the herd, leaving the lion standing there alone, defeated.
The birds, crowned plovers, had saved the zebra.
“They make a lot of noise,” Willie told us, “when they see things like lions.”
An hour had passed from the time this drama began until now. (Yes, we dared breathe.) Some of us had captured the climactic scramble forever on film or the digital equivalent; most of us had panicked and had caught what the lion caught: zippo.
All of us were both shaken and stirred.
And then, after a drive just up the road–after a wait of maybe five minutes–we saw two cheetah cubs, coached by their mother, pull down a young Thompson’s gazelle . . .
“Every safari is different,” Gus, our Tanzania safari director, had told us. “We always see great things–but different things.”
He told us that after we’d watched, in something midway between fascination and absolute horror, a wildebeest being ripped to shreds at a river bend by two enormous Nile crocodiles.
See the problem here? In a matter of a few paragraphs, seven days of exploring the game reserves of Kenya and Tanzania has been reduced to a succession of bloody assaults, and that–while unquestionably a part of the experience–is only a part of the experience.
We were here in mid-November. The great southward migration of hundreds of thousands of animals, mostly wildebeests, peaks in December. We were catching the beginning.
Imagine, if you can (and, frankly, you can’t), a line of wildebeests longer than the longest freight train that has ever made you late. Then add a second train. A third. Toss in a few thousand zebras for texture and scatterings of other hoofed mammals for variety.
How many wildebeests?
“You count the horns,” Gus suggested, “and divide by two.”
When, for whatever reason (a lion sighting? a leopard?), they stampede . . . oh, my. Flying hooves. Flying dust. Panic. Power. All you can do is gaze in wonder, and maybe take a snapshot that won’t come close to capturing the scene.
Now, imagine all those flying hooves and bodies and horns and power backed by the red-purple glow left by a setting sun–and try to nail that on film. Real photographers, the National Geographic people or the brilliant artists who work at the Tribune, with their expertise and lenses and filters and especially the luxury of time, can get it.
Us? We try. If we’re lucky, we come close. Mostly, we remember the moment, and we will never forget it.
That’s what it’s like being on a photo safari in East Africa.
Here’s our safari, from the catalog of Kenya- and New York-based Micato Safaris, and aside from variations in lodgings, duration and some other details, this itinerary is fairly typical:
Day 1: A quick tour of Nairobi, a visit to the home of author Karen Blixen (“Out of Africa”), a look at a reserve for Rothschild’s giraffes, lunch and good company at a tea plantation, back to Nairobi for a spin through Kenya’s National Museum, then dinner.
Day 2: Flight to Lake Manyara National Park (Tanzania), in time for a brief nature walk and dinner.
Days 3-4: Morning game drive around the lake, lunch, a bumpy but interesting (with animals) drive to Ngorongoro Crater (Tanzania), then dinner. Next day, a morning game drive, a picnic lunch and an afternoon game drive.
Days 5-6: Drive to Serengeti National Park (Tanzania). Two days of game drives.
Days 7-8: Flight to Masai Mara National Reserve (Kenya). A short game drive that afternoon, and a full day of game drives on Day 8, plus a visit to a Masai village.
Day 9: A final game drive (or a nature walk, or a pricey hot-air balloon ride), followed by a flight to Nairobi, lunch, dinner, and home.
That’s the short version.
Here’s the reality: zebras, elephants, impalas, gazelles, lions, giraffes, warthogs, hyenas, cheetahs, flamingos, vultures, leopards, herons, wildebeests, spoonbills, jackals, hartebeests, eagles, Cape buffalo, servals, bustards, ostriches, elands, rhinos (well, one rhino), hippos, monkeys, crocodiles, secretary-birds, storks, baboons and more. We saw them all.
Green hills, parched plains, red dust.
Dawns and sunsets. Noises in the night. Serenades in the morning.
Acacia trees. Fever trees. Fig trees. Candelabra trees. Ebony trees.
Masai herdsmen. Cows. Goats. Sheep.
Baby warthogs, baby elephants, baby gazelles, baby hyenas. Lion cubs. Leopard cubs. Cheetah cubs.
Prey. Predators. Scavengers.
Other people with cameras . . . on land ample to absorb the vehicles that carry them.
Understand: Safaris, most of them, are communal things. Hemingway, in “The Green Hills of Africa,” wasn’t here alone. Neither were we.
Configurations varied, but our primary companions, aside from guides and drivers, were two other couples, both–by startling coincidence–from the Chicago suburbs. They were fun, they were interested.
Five of us had still cameras. Marie had the only camcorder. Her intention: to create a sound movie for the grandkids. Sometimes, not knowing the machine was on, we’d slip–which led to stuff like this . . .
Dick: “Is the machine on?”
Marie: “No.”
Dick: “OK. The elephant on the left is taking a dump.”
Then there was the night when, after an evening of drinks and dinner at our Serengeti lodge, The Wife and I took early leave and headed down the path toward our luxury hut.
The screams came quickly.
“Go back!” It was Irene and Jerry, the other couple. “Alan! Go back!”
I turned toward the screams, then stopped and looked around. The Wife, wiser, grabbed my arm and yanked me back toward the lodge–my head swiveling just in time to see a Cape buffalo (average weight: 1,500 pounds; average disposition: ferocious) pounding downhill at full buffalo-speed right past the door of that luxury hut.
A guard carrying a rifle capable of neutralizing a stegosaurus eventually walked us to our luxury hut . . .
Later, back in Kenya, our merry sixsome was semi-merged with another, even merrier Micato group that included a quintet of women who came to call themselves The Big Five. (The Big Five is the term given the five beasts considered most dangerous to hunters: lion, elephant, buffalo, leopard and rhino.)
It was The Big Five who taught us the words to a celebratory Swahili ditty called “The Jambo Song,” which had earlier been taught them by their safari director, Tonnie.
The lyrics–“Hey, how are you? Fine, thank you, etc.” in English–sound much better in Swahili, especially the pivotal last line and refrain:
“Hakuna matata.”
Within hours of meeting The Big Five, we were all singing it together. It was a beautiful thing. There were so many beautiful things.
Giraffes walking. Thompson’s gazelles running. A lion grooming a compliant cub.
The herds. The green hills. Gus and Tonnie and Willie. Andrew.
The circle of life.
The beautiful young woman who had brought tea and cookies and a smile to our tent in the mornings, who now rolled our packed duffels to the Land Rovers that would take us away from the lions and giraffes and zebras and warthogs for the last time . . .
“When,” she asked us, “are you coming back?”
We were homesick for it already.
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SAFARI COMPANIES
The following are just some of the companies offering comprehensive safari packages that include Kenya and Tanzania; all have programs to other African countries as well, and several can custom-tailor a safari to your specific needs.
If in doubt, ask for references; if you use a travel agent–which can be a good idea–make sure the agent isn’t just guessing.
Abercrombie & Kent: 800-323-7308; www.abercrombiekent.com
Big Five Tours: 800-244-3483; www.bigfive.com
Geographic Expeditions: 415-922-0448; www.geoex.com
Globus: 866-755-8581; www.globusjourneys.com
Ker & Downey: 800-423-4236; www.kerdowney.com
Micato Safaris: 800-642-2861; www.micato.com
Mountain Travel Sobek: 888-687-6235; www.mtsobek.com
Overseas Adventure Travel: 800-493-6824; www.oattravel.com
Park East: 800-223-6078; www.parkeast.com
Royal African Safaris: No phone; www.royalafrican.com
Tauck: 800-788-7885; www.tauck.com
For general information on Tanzania, check the Tanzania Tourist Board’s Web site at www.tanzaniatouristboard.com; on Kenya, call the Kenya Tourist Board, 866-44-KENYA, or see www.magicalkenya.com on the Web.
— A.S.
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Questions–and answers–about an African safari
Q. The essential Q . . . how much?
A. Our East Africa safari (“The Heart of Tanzania and Kenya,” a 12-day program through Micato Safaris) was priced at $4,998 per person, double occupancy, not including airfare to Nairobi (from O’Hare, about $1,200). Those are 2004 numbers, and prices are seasonal. That essentially covers what a cruise price would cover–lodging and all meals–plus airport-hotel transfers, game drives and some nice perks (duffel, flashlight, safari hat). With travel insurance (a good idea), we were billed $10,674 for two. Not covered: tips for guides and drivers, alcoholic beverages, laundry (if needed), film and souvenirs. Micato, incidentally, was terrific.
Q. And the others?
A. Mountain Travel Sobek is priced about the same, for a different experience; a similar package by Abercrombie & Kent (“Highlights of Tanzania” plus a Masai Mara add-on) runs about $1,000 more. A Globus “Kenya & Tanzania” tour, slightly longer, is priced at $4,113 plus air. That gives you an idea. There are still-cheaper options, if you don’t mind outhouses and bucket-showers. See our partial listing to get more info. (When comparing, note the duration of the safari, size of the groups, quality and style of lodgings, and the number of flights while in Africa [some drive more than others; flying is better]; and note that some companies include the cost of interior flights and park fees, while others break them off as separate cost items.)
Q. Is there an alternative to group things?
A. Sure. You can choose your own lodgings, book flights from Nairobi to an airstrip in (for example) Serengeti National Park and arrange game drives through the hotel, lodge or camp. Prices, naturally, vary. Examples: In-season rate (it drops during wet April and May) at the Serengeti Serena Safari Lodge, with meals: $400/night (per room); the rate at Kishwa Tembo Tented Camp, also all-inclusive (and, unlike the Serena, including game drives), peaks at $460. Because only guides can drive within the game reserves–and some roads are hardly roads at all–driving yourself makes no sense.
Q. Why East Africa?
A. Other destinations on the continent–Botswana, Zimbabwe, Uganda, Rwanda, South Africa–have their attractions, but this is the Africa of your dreams. Aside from the gorillas and Victoria Falls, it’s pretty much all here.
Q. Is it safe?
A. Unless you leap out of your vehicle and try to pet a hyena, yes.
Q. Even in Nairobi?
A. Well . . . let’s put it this way: It isn’t recommended that tourists walk Nairobi’s streets, day or night, without a local, streetwise escort. And at the time of our visit, a U.S. State Department travel advisory for East Africa (“potential for terrorist actions”) was in place, and it still is; a fresh Kenya advisory was posted Nov. 29. (For updates, check www.travel.state.gov.) That said, we felt safe and secure. Your call.
Q. When’s the best time?
A. Most popular are December, July and August (the migration months). April and May–rainy season–is tough, but the animals are still there and rates drop. Our weather in mid-to-late November (70s in the day, 50s at night) was awfully nice. You’ll need visas, by the way, for both countries.
Q.Will we be eating strange food?
A.Not unless you want to. Our safari meals leaned heavily on the familiar, right down to the omelet stations at breakfast. (Water, of course, was all bottled–and the beer was cold.) For those with a taste for the exotic: One night’s dinner menu at the Ngorongoro Serena Safari Lodge included bata wadogo wa kupaka (“Traditional Coconut Marinated Stewed Duckling Cuts With Swahili Spices Served With Vegetable Fried Rice and Spiced Salad”). Which, by the way, was delicious.
Q.What’s the comfort level?
A.Our lodgings were four- to five-star comfortable, including the tents (which had, among other things, private baths). Some roads ranged from rough to jolting; travelers with serious back problems might consider taking a pass. Travelers with disabilities should talk directly with a company representative. Guides and drivers were mindful of the need for restroom stops, though a couple of stops–just a couple–were a little primitive (squat toilets for women). Amazing how necessity makes the adjustment tolerable . . .
Q.How about shots?
A.None required, but malaria pills are recommended. We took Malarone and experienced none of its potential side effects (nausea, headache, etc.), but it’s not for everybody. See your health specialist.
Q.Mosquitoes?
A.We saw one. Total. The Wife slaughtered it. But that was November.
Q.How much film?
A.If you still use film– all you can carry.
— Alan Solomon
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E-mail Alan Solomon: asolomon@tribune.com
