Serengeti Safari – Tanzania Memories and Communication Mistakes

The scene before me could not be compared to anywhere else in the world. Parched yellow grass stretched out before us as far as the eye could see, broken only by the occasional umbrella tree and a few hundred thousand migrating wildebeest that formed a thin, dusty gray line on the horizon to the north. As the sun beat down overhead, vapors of heat danced from the ground. This was the Serengeti, a place like no other!

Nine days earlier, my six-year-old son, Jerry, and I had arrived in Arusha, a beautiful Tanzanian ‘metropolis’ and the main starting point for those wanting to book cheap safaris. As with all visitors, the news of our arrival spread like wildfire. For dinner on the first night, we were courted by three of Arusha’s tour operators. For breakfast our trip was booked.

Two days later we were out. Nothing was left to chance. A jeep, driver, cook, tents, water (although I felt it was best to bring my own) and park permits, would be provided to us as part of our safari package.

WILDLIFE ABOUNDS

Five days of photographic paradise followed. Best of Tanzania – Lake Manyara, Ngorongoro Crater, Olduvai Gorge – they were all our playgrounds. Each one was an oasis offering its own unique landscape and unimaginably diverse wildlife. Finally, as I looked over the edge of Ngorongoro, I lowered the camera. No photo could do it justice. Those who don’t venture there will never know! All this greatness, and still the place of my calling, the Serengeti, was ahead. This was the safari I had dreamed of.

An inconspicuous sign in the middle of nowhere marked our arrival at my 14,763 square kilometer. field of dreams We had four days to spend in the Serengeti. Yet within twenty minutes, the giraffes galloped past in slow motion. Playful zebras danced in dust storms of their own creation. Nearby, lionesses lovingly cared for the playful cubs. This accomplished lifelong fantasy was designed 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 only one bottle of water in her box. Next I added. Two people, six days out, three days to go, 13 bottles of water are gone. He suspected a flaw in the plan. With little choice, I reluctantly handed over the last bottle of ‘good’ water to my progeny. I would drink the questionable water provided by the safari operator for 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 lounging in the midday sun. This magnificent beast was obviously unaware of our presence. In his bed, a gigantic reddish-brown termite mound over four feet high, it could easily have slept two more.

FRUSTRATION MAKES A CLOSER

Inspired and thirsty, it was time to move forward with the courage of that lion and consume the mysterious water. Thomas, my driver, was an impeccably neat fellow, smartly dressed, obviously well washed and well watered. As I approached, he flashed his perfect smile and asked me what I needed. Water, I replied. Thomas seemed ‘off’. “Ninataka maji ya kunywa” I tried. (trying swahili because I need to drink water) Ah, Thomas replied: “Maji hapana” (meaning no water). I tried English again. We still had no water.

I’m sure my body temperature rose five degrees as I tried to figure out why Thomas hadn’t brought water from camp that day. Then he went up another eight degrees while he tried to figure out why he didn’t need to drink anything. Oh well, soon we would be heading back to camp where she would enjoy all the beige water she could ever want. I decided to hold on. See the lives. We were on a safari.

As evening approached, we relaxed in the shade near a watering hole. The sweet smell of fresh water filled the air. The emerald green pool quivered ever so slightly with each movement of a hippo’s ear. As the sun sank, the parched orange horizon invited one last snapshot. It was time for our crew to head to camp.

Meanwhile, back at camp, our cook had dinner ready and waiting. Before the Jeep came to a stop, my door was open. I approached him thirsty, “maji ya kunywa?” I said. He replied, “maji hapana”. “I mean water,” I blurted out regretfully. “You must have some to drink!” Both Thomas and the cook shook their heads and looked at me like I was crazy to think anyone would have water in the bush. Didn’t know you were on safari?

Not being the father of the year, I brought my son water, some water anyway. We save the rest for the morning.

CONTEMPLATE THE SITUATION

I reluctantly sat down at dinner watching my son, my driver, and my cook all laughing together on the men’s side of the camp. As a zoologist, you knew they had to have water, right? How stupid did they think he was? Then the questions swam in my mind. How could we stay here almost three more days without more water? What happened to the water that the tour company agreed to send? What did the cook cook with? How did Thomas stay so fucking clean? If I kill my offspring and drink the water from him, do I get extradited or tried in Tanzania? And how stupid did they think he was?

That night I sat by the fire under the most brilliantly lit sky I have ever seen. I sat down to talk to Thomas, explaining that Homo sapiens consumed water. It was a necessity! It was a fact! He didn’t buy it for a second. In the end, I gave up. I told my crew that we would have to return to Arusha the next day. If I had been alone, I would have risked dying of dehydration for another day, but the PTA frowns on things like this. Obviously annoyed by my crazy whims, the boys turned themselves in.

The rest of the night was spent reflecting on the days gone by, on our incredible experiences, and on something else, something strange. The previous morning, while driving through a dusty wallow, we had come upon a Maasai warrior walking barefoot across the grasslands. Thomas came over to ask about cheetahs and such. While they were talking, I looked over at this magnificent looking man leaning against the front of our jeep. The long, twisted strands of his hair were red with ochre, and fell gracefully over his perfectly shaped back. He wore the traditional Maasai red cloth 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. He was still an orange Fanta. Thinking back, I remembered drops of condensation. He was sure that he was cold. I didn’t even come up with H2O, a refreshing sugary drink. Was I hallucinating? Was he even on safari?

DISAPPEARING THROUGH THE BUSH

The stifling heat of the morning came too soon. Breakfast with thick condensed milk, I completely lost the place and reconfirmed my decision to leave. The cook and I began to pack up the camp. Jerry and Thomas (Tom and Jerry?) wandered through the bush together long before the job was done. Surprise! Whenever he started any project, the men tended to vanish into the trees. In fact, upon completing the task at hand, I realized my moisture retaining chef was gone. An hour later no one had returned.

I was protecting our belongings without water from a herd of malicious baboons and couldn’t go looking for my three autoosmotive delinquents. Besides, if men died, I would prove my theory that they needed water to live. Ha! It would be vindicated! Wealth would prevail! Therefore, I sat down to film my new primate friends. After all, was he still on safari?

Half an hour later, the boys emerged from the bush, talking casually as they sipped on their strawberry Fantas. My mouth fell open. Jerry casually pointed behind them as he passed and asked, “Mom, why didn’t you come to the refreshment stand with us? You could have at least gotten some bottled water.” I was left defining dumbfounded! Were they slurping every time they disappeared? What was a refreshment stand doing in the middle of…? Why didn’t someone just say it was…? oh..? Was there a Denny’s there too? How foolish of me to have expected them to mention this. Ooooh! Didn’t I realize I was on safari?