Mama Black Rhino
Hell Bent for Lions!
Mama Hippo gives Me the Hairy Eyeball
Barefoot in Africa
Don't Tread on ME
The Lion King -or Bait as the Case may BeLetowe has arranged to gather the four of us at 8:20 AM for our trip to the Ngorongoro crater floor. First we breakfast on scrambled eggs, croissants and fried tomatoes. The coffee in Kenya is just as good as in Tanzania – pure Arabica.
Once ensconced in the van, we pass through dense forest, switching back and forth down the steep crater rim. Some 2000 vertical feet later we arrive at the bottom of the caldera. We are now in a typical East African savannah – dry grass spotted with beautiful acacia trees and lots and lots of animals.
The first thing we see is zebras and wildebeests. The latter are watching closely as a Belgian couple on their honeymoon change a flat on their Rover. If you’re a local with some beadwork to sell, sprinkling a few nails on the game park road is a sure-fire way to get tourists to stop. But this puncture seems legit. The Ngorongoro Masai are nowhere in sight.
We join a group of vehicles clustered around a lion kill. The lions are there but they have feasted and are now resting. At binocular distance, we can view three jackals fighting over the remains of a wildebeest ribcage. Suddenly there is a rush of vehicles across the crater floor. We join the stampede and come up to a Mama Black Rhino who is taking a leisurely walk in the grass.
After the rhino, we detour to the hippo pool, conveniently located next to the only flush toilets on the crater floor. Then it’s off to a picnic area to enjoy box lunches prepared by the chefs at Sopa Lodge.
There is always something new out of Africa – as Pliny the Elder wrote some 2200 years ago.
And today is no exception. The picnic area is on a flat grassy knoll with scattered acacias for shade. We are enjoined by Letowe to eat in the van. “Not safe if you’re on foot around here,” our guide explains.
Letowe drifts off to eat lunch with the other drivers who are all chums. I cautiously exit the Range-rover. “Hey, guys I think it’s safe? Wanna go for a little stroll?”
No one responds. I try a little enticement – taking off my shoes and socks and doing a little barefoot Masai dance. “Perfect for jumping,” I exclaim. “Anyone else want to try a few leaps?” No takers. They are really missing out. In my 13 trips to East Africa I’ve never run barefoot on the savannah before. And guess what? The grass is fantastic- very soft and spongy and the blades are so narrow and fine that it feels like you’re walking on cotton batting rather than on regular grass.
I stroll out under the acacia trees – being careful to watch for lines of siafu – or soldier ants. I have trod on army ants before and it is quite a sight to see an ant-bit muzungu stripping down to his jockey shorts in a mad frenzy to kill every last ant-soldier!
No ants and the going is good. Soon I’m out of sight of the vans and enjoying myself immensely. No lions or elephants accost me but I do feel quite brave and pleasantly buzzed on adrenaline. I see lots of butterflies and a wicked large black and yellow beetle.
After returning from my stroll, I finish my fried chicken and lay out on the grass for a snooze in the sun. If it’s good enough for lions it’s good enough for one well-fed and self-satisfied tourist. In fact I feel exactly like Simba – the Lion King c’est moi!
Once ensconced in the van, we pass through dense forest, switching back and forth down the steep crater rim. Some 2000 vertical feet later we arrive at the bottom of the caldera. We are now in a typical East African savannah – dry grass spotted with beautiful acacia trees and lots and lots of animals.
The first thing we see is zebras and wildebeests. The latter are watching closely as a Belgian couple on their honeymoon change a flat on their Rover. If you’re a local with some beadwork to sell, sprinkling a few nails on the game park road is a sure-fire way to get tourists to stop. But this puncture seems legit. The Ngorongoro Masai are nowhere in sight.
We join a group of vehicles clustered around a lion kill. The lions are there but they have feasted and are now resting. At binocular distance, we can view three jackals fighting over the remains of a wildebeest ribcage. Suddenly there is a rush of vehicles across the crater floor. We join the stampede and come up to a Mama Black Rhino who is taking a leisurely walk in the grass.
After the rhino, we detour to the hippo pool, conveniently located next to the only flush toilets on the crater floor. Then it’s off to a picnic area to enjoy box lunches prepared by the chefs at Sopa Lodge.
There is always something new out of Africa – as Pliny the Elder wrote some 2200 years ago.
And today is no exception. The picnic area is on a flat grassy knoll with scattered acacias for shade. We are enjoined by Letowe to eat in the van. “Not safe if you’re on foot around here,” our guide explains.
Letowe drifts off to eat lunch with the other drivers who are all chums. I cautiously exit the Range-rover. “Hey, guys I think it’s safe? Wanna go for a little stroll?”
No one responds. I try a little enticement – taking off my shoes and socks and doing a little barefoot Masai dance. “Perfect for jumping,” I exclaim. “Anyone else want to try a few leaps?” No takers. They are really missing out. In my 13 trips to East Africa I’ve never run barefoot on the savannah before. And guess what? The grass is fantastic- very soft and spongy and the blades are so narrow and fine that it feels like you’re walking on cotton batting rather than on regular grass.
I stroll out under the acacia trees – being careful to watch for lines of siafu – or soldier ants. I have trod on army ants before and it is quite a sight to see an ant-bit muzungu stripping down to his jockey shorts in a mad frenzy to kill every last ant-soldier!
No ants and the going is good. Soon I’m out of sight of the vans and enjoying myself immensely. No lions or elephants accost me but I do feel quite brave and pleasantly buzzed on adrenaline. I see lots of butterflies and a wicked large black and yellow beetle.
After returning from my stroll, I finish my fried chicken and lay out on the grass for a snooze in the sun. If it’s good enough for lions it’s good enough for one well-fed and self-satisfied tourist. In fact I feel exactly like Simba – the Lion King c’est moi!
DAKTARI
