Eurafrika Pt. 15 - Wilds of Serengeti

We woke up early for breakfast. I shivered a little as we waited to be seated; it was cool outside: the dry landscape was just starting to warm up from a frigid evening.

After breakfast, I took my pills: anti-malarials, vitamins and accutane, making sure to down them with bottled water and not tap water. The accutane had been causing me problems: I was told one of the symptoms was depression. I wasn't depressed, but easily annoyed. Every time my dad said some thing dumb, which was often, I could feel my irritability come to a boil. I struggled to keep a lid on it.

We hopped into the jeep and headed down the hill with a full day of animal-watching ahead of us. I yearned see something new, not just large herbivores grazing around like we had seen in Arusha and Manyara, but predators: lions, cheetahs, leopards and hyenas, hopefully during a kill.

Our journey was interrupted by a herd of elephants. Somehow, my dad completely missed them; I berated him for this stupidity. These elephants were far bigger than the ones in Manyara. Serengeti was no resort: only the biggest and the bravest survived. But, like the elephants at Manyara, they were eating everything in site.

As we explored the central Serengeti, we came upon a herd of Zebra crossing our path, a seemingly endless line of black and white stretching from a gully to our right to the vast plains to our left. There were buffalo and wildebeest; they were on the move too. I sensed I was witnessing a the beginning of a great movement of life, the beginning of the great migration.

You could also feel a tension in the air. The Zebra were going crazy, shrieking and kicking as they went by. I heard a story of a man who had tamed a Zebra, though it was still a bit wild. They are always on edge; they have to be. I would be too if lions could be lurking around every corner.

Our vehicle arrived at a viewing point. There were about a half-dozen jeeps overlooking a small stream gully. It was a great scene; the whole image was like a baroque painting, a canvass filled with every kind of wild beast. There were about a hundred buffalo keeping a close eye on a pride of lions devouring the carcass of one of their own. It was mostly bones now, a giant rack of overturned ribs like you see in the opening of The Flintstones. Vultures perched on acacias to my right, taking in the scene like us, patiently waiting their turn.

With my mom's hunting binoculars, I could clearly see the pride of lions. There were cubs, a few females and a male lion lying in the shade. He looked like Aslan, just sitting there magnificently while his wives do all the work. You can be lazy when you're king of the Savannah. Suddenly, he got up and make quick, efficient love to one of the lionesses. It lasted only about ten seconds.

Simon got a call and we were on the move again. We stopped in the middle of an open plain alongside a row of jeeps. Another cheetah. It was sitting in the shade of a lonely tree in the vast plains.

All of a sudden, it started walking directly towards us. The way it approached brought back memories of encountering in Dark Link in the Ocarina of Time, bringing back a sense of fear I was stared down by glowing eyes. It walked right up to our jeep and then alongside our row of jeeps. We were humbled by the surprise visit of this beast. In the distance, we could see a lone gazelle on the horizon; it was clearly in the cheetah's sights. We wanted to see a kill, just like how boxing spectators want to see a KO. It wasn't out of blood lust, it was about trying to get the fullest experience during our short time there. But we weren't as patient as the cheetah and moved on to see other animals.

As we drove along, Simon told us horror stories of people who were foolish enough to wander outside their vehicles. One dumb tourist got out of his jeep and was mauled by a hiding lion. He was saved by the jeep's driver. Unfortunately, things weren't so lucky for a kid who wandered out of his tent and attacked by a leopard.

We drove further south. The landscape was desolate and in dire need of rain. There were fewer and fewer animals. Simon turned off the main road; he had received some exciting news. They had spotted a leopard. It was difficult to see, but sure enough, I could see spotted limbs hanging lazily from the tree's branches.

It was dry. We encountered another pride of lions. The male lion sat lazily in the grass. Meanwhile, one of the lionesses looked like it had spotted something. It started to prowl and then pounced something in the tall grass. She didn't get anything. A moment later, a rabbit zoomed out of the grass, running like the wind. It ran right by the male lion, but he didn't move so much as a whisker.

The frustrated lioness wasn't done. She was desperate and hungry. She spotted a herd of gazelle. She walked right by our jeep, so close that my dad could have stuck his arm out of the window and stroked her (though if he had done so, he probably would've lost it). We followed it, watching as it prowled in the tall grass, each step getting it closer to its potential meal.

However, the odds weren't good for the lioness. Gazelle are much faster than lions and the only way it could get one is if it could get close enough to catch one before it could speed off. She was also hunting alone; there was no other lion to intercept them.

She made here move, but it was too soon. The gazelle ran off before the chase even really started. Another lioness came later and consoled her. It was sad to see her fail, but seeing even an attempted kill was exciting. We left for lunch.