Wonder Woman, a Safari Guide, the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island, Charlie Chaplin, a random roll of toilet paper, circus performer, and of course the obligatory witch… all showed up to celebrate Halloween. Which is undeniably the greatest holiday of the year.
But here in Zambia, it’s never a party without the wildlife.
Elephant… check.
Lion (albeit vegetarian)… check.
Dragon (not of the Komodo variety)… check.
I’ve seen Walt Disney’s Lion King. Isn’t that what Africa is all about? A cleric monkey blessing the new born king high on a cliff while the animal masses sing and bow to his glory. Well Mr. Disney, I have news for you… warthogs and hyenas do not speak English. (Unless, that’s one stellar Halloween costume.)
I was brought to this devastating revaluation while getting up close (and luckily not so personal) while on safari at South Luangwa National Park. Jaimy, a fellow VSO volunteer from the Netherlands, and I had a fascinating excursion… A truly African Adventure. I wish I had the balls (or the ovaries) to request a refund from the lodge. Not because it wasn’t a well run and fascinating excursion but rather because I didn’t sleep a wink in my tent. Even with a spacious, comfy bed… shouldn’t all camping be so luxurious? However, seriously what would stop a lumbering elephant or a grazing hippo from trampling my tent? Or a prowling lion and scavenging hyena from pouncing as I sprint to the toilet in the dark night? I prayed that our distant relations in the Great Ape family didn’t sniff out the banana I had stashed in my bag. This is camping on a whole other level.
Up before the sun, we sleepily climbed aboard the open top jeep. Wrapping up in blankets to catch the wind that blew across the open fields of brown. (Breakfast would be served later as we hypnotically gazed at the hippos that would peak their heads above the river, let out a load laugh, and re-submerge their massive bodies… South Luangwa is home to something like 20,000 hippos!)
Warthogs… Impala… Elephants…
Giraffes… Buffalo… Kudu…
Water buck… Antelope… Crocodiles…
Hippopotamuses… Zebras… Leggy birds
We nibbled on lunch with vistas of free roaming wildlife. As if sitting in an IMAX theater watching an African feature film… only better.
Little white butterflies and emerald birds…
Baboon… Guinea fowl… Genets…
Civets… Honey Badgers… Leopards… Hyena
A pride of lions feasting on a newly killed buffalo, crunching on bones, licking their lips
The sun transformed into a fiery red ball as we watched it sink behind the river bed. We toasted our glasses of Amarula (made from the fruit of the Marula tree, it’s a sweet creamy alcohol much like Bailey’s).
But the thrill of the day, of the night, was on the prowl. Spying a massive herd of buffalos in the dark, moonless night, we stop to watch them. The baboons screech out a warning. And then as if oblivious to our presence, a lioness stalks from behind the jeep. Another one to the right. And on the left. One in front. Two in front. On the hunt… and we were between them and their buffalo meal. We sat in silence for 45 minutes. Waiting. Then the attack. The buffalo racing around our vehicle. The lions close enough to touch. Protectively the buffalo form a mob and drop their horns, tossing lions into the air. The lions lunging at the weak stragglers of the stampede, claws and teeth lashing at the gray leathery hides. The energy. The hunger. The primal instinct that laced the breezeless night air. I cannot grasp the proper vernacular… but it was way better than anything the Discovery channel or Animal Planet or National Geographic dishes out.
Later safe in my tent, I’m still reeling from the excursion. A hyena passes directly in front of the mesh tent door… what a fantastic world.
Mother Nature and Elton John rock on.
The next morning we were up again to catch the sun rise. This time breakfast was served at a nearby salt-flat. Complete English style. Toast, beans, eggs, bacon, sausage, tomatoes, coffee, juice… all cooked on an open fire by our two local guides. If you ever find yourself in the wilds or on Survivor, elephant dung is apparently great for making cooking fires. Although, I tried not to notice the absence of handwashing facilities after the cooks collected the dried elephant dung. A whole new meaning to green eggs and ham… yum!
Does it get any better than that? Not really.
At least I thought so, and then l I met my newest acquaintance, El Presidente himself, Mr. Rupiah Banda. The Zambian President and I moments ago had a bit of a conversation out front of the local radio station, owned by my mango-stealing neighbor. I had skillfully stalked him (the President not the neighbor) for a good portion of the day. I regrettably had sought refuge from the torrential downpour under a mere sapling when a helpful stranger gave me a lift home. Racing up to the house, I grabbed my garden boy, Moses… and an umbrella. However, if I had known that we were going to actually have a face-to-face audience with the Zambian leader, I might have also have changed my wet and dirty clothes into something more appropriate for meeting Presidents! Or at least put on a clean shirt. Nevertheless, I’m feeling pretty cool…
Almost as cool as I felt (after we drained the 12 bottles of South African wine and copious bottles of Mosi and Castle… there may have also been a bottle or two of gin) dancing on stage at a Zambian pop concert in my Halloween costume to a crowded club of cheering fans. Surely they were cheering for my style-riffic dance moves and not the Zambian superstar… surely.
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