Footprints on the Web

They always say before you make a big decision in life, sleep on it. I wasn’t much for this saying but I figured ah, what the hell. I typed up my resignation letter and emailed it to my work address and went to bed. I hadn’t changed my mind in the morning or on my commute to work. I remember getting in real early, printing out few copies, signing them and putting them in envelopes before dropping a copy on each of my manager’s desk. They tried to talk me out of it. Asked me where I was going. When I said Africa, one of them told me I was out of my mind. He thought I was moving there for a job. I corrected him and said no, just a 1 way ticket to Africa for now. I needed to get away and wash off the feeling on being unappreciated by a corporation I had worked so hard for. They never cared. They never do.

I had all my vaccination and visa papers all packed. I was excited. I had never been on a safari trip before. I had never been to Africa before. Well, unless you count Egypt. I remember arriving in the Nairobi airport and there being absolute chaos. The visa was to be acquired upon arrival. I waited in line with people shouting and being disruptive. Or was that the norm there? It was all so new to me. I got the visa fairly quickly and took a cab to my hotel. It was a no frills hotel. Everything including the accommodation and travel within Africa had been booked by a travel agency. It was my first trip since I became a ‘working woman’ who was not working anymore. I grabbed something to eat and went to bed. It had been a long trip and I was exhausted. I had a big day ahead the next day.

I met up with my tour guide in the hotel lobby at the time that we were instructed. It was a nice sized group of 10 of us, small enough. I was the only Canadian. We had one American and quite a few Europeans (Belgian(1), English (2), German(2), Irish (2)) and one Australian. We were all different personality types for sure but over the next few weeks grew a strong bond and got along really well. Probably the one and only group travel I thoroughly enjoyed and reminisce fondly to this day almost 15 years later.

Our tour guide was from South Africa. That was the first time I had heard a South African accent. It was hard to place. It was not British English but not quite American/Canadian English either. She was young, a little guarded and knew the parks in side out. She knew the safe rest areas where there was no risk of wildlife. We pitched tents during our trip in some of the most breathtaking places on earth including the Serengeti National Park and Ngorongoro crater. It was two people per tent. I mostly shared the tent with the Belgian lady who was such an empath and simple the sweetest. At some point towards the end of the trip I remember sharing the tent with the Australian who was definitely the extrovert, prankster in the group. With the English woman and American man hooking up during the trip there was shift in the tent mates eventually.

We travelled in a safari jeep daily. Our jeep was drove by a local driver who, although looked intimidating given his big built, was a quite a joker. I, being one who is always intrigued by lives of locals no matter where I travel, always asked him questions while on the tour. Where did he grow up? How did he learn English? What was his family like? How long had be been doing this? Was this what he wanted to do forever? If you know me, you know I am a little curious George and the questions never stop. Over the course of the trip, he got pretty protective of me. Like he would not let me haggle for souvenirs being sold on the side of the highways. He would go do it for me. I would share my snacks with him as I learned they made very little income and most times were gypped of tips by the tour guides. We ended up becoming good friends by the end of the trip. It was a bittersweet moment when it was time to say goodbye. He picked me up, thanks to me being over a foot shorter than him and gave me a big tight hug while saying goodbye. He didn’t do that with the rest of the group. I remember they all started clapping when we hugged.

The Maasai Mara tribesmen were extremely hospitable. I recollect them dressing me up in their cultural outfit, getting me to dance with them and sniffing my hair. Everywhere I went, they were fascinated by my straight, shoulder length black hair. It was nothing great. But they thought it was. I didn’t get it. One of the tribesman asked me if I would be interested in staying back and marry him. He was humoring me, ofcourse. One of the guys from my group asked him what he was willing to give me in return. The Maasai obliged by beginning to list all his assets- his shacks and numerous cattle/livestock. It was a impressive. I had a good chuckle at the thought of me becoming a Maasai and not going back to a corporate job.  

It was typical desert climate which meant it got really cold at night and early mornings. But the sun was scorching during the day. In the mornings, as I came out of the tent brushing my teeth or just trying to wake up, I recollect seeing elephants or giraffes grazing. It never got old waking upto that. On our daily safari escapades, we took in some unreal sights. It was migration season. We would feel the jeep and ground shaking when herds and hers of wildebeest came rushing to cross the fields. It was jaw dropping. At one point, we saw a cheetah kill. It was chasing a ghazal as we watched from afar. As it closed in, it took a big plunge right onto the ghazal and both disappeared for a few seconds amidst the tall dry grass. We all pulled out our binoculars to see where they went. Right then the cheetah’s bloody face plunged through the grass and it continued to gorge on its kill.

A rather fancy day during our trip was when we went up on a hot air balloon and got a tour of the park. We were not too high up and low enough to get an aerial view of all the wildlife and herds of migration across the horizon. Everyone was so enamored by the views that we hadn’t noticed how silent we all were. The day ended with a nice wine and cheese spread table right on the park where we could enjoy it with views of the wildlife.

We had been told not to leave food/snack out because that was asking for trouble. Plumbing and electricity were not readily available in the tents or most sites we camped at. Where there was no plumbing available, and one of us had to go in the middle of the night, we stuck as a group. We, the females, had a system down. The person who had to go would dig a hole and be in the center surrounded by others in a circle looking out for any one or wildlife. You just never knew. Once done, the person would cover the hole and we all went back to our respective tents. One night, when one of the women had to pee, 3 of us went with her using a torch. We were looking out in our circle, when the torch died on us. Shit! It was fine, we were almost done. No one panicked. Until someone said, ‘do you hear that?’

Hear what?

It is like someone breathing….or something breathing. We all stood still almost holding our breath just to listen if we heard anything but the desert winds.

All of sudden, we heard it. A big, angry roar. Not in a movie. Not on screen. A real, live roar. And we all thought the same thing- how close is that damn thing to us, we can’t bloody see! Four of us screamed and ran towards the direction in which our tents were hoping we were right in the dark. That night would be pretty hard to forget. That roar would be pretty hard to unhear. The next morning, none of us really asked if the woman had finished peeing or had to run halfway through her squat. I think we were just glad to see our count of 10 members be intact.

Weeks of camping was wrapped up with a much needed R&R on the lovely beaches of Zanzibar. One of the first nights there, we had a lovely bonfire on the beach. Few locals joined us in our deep conversations trying to solve the problems of the world. There was a guy there who planted himself beside me. None of the men in my tour group seemed to like him or his line of questioning towards me. He seemed pretty harmless to me. But I remember getting up to go to my room and few of the men in my group walked me to my room because they did not trust the guy and was convinced he was upto no good. The next day was our last day in Zanzibar and Africa. I spent most of the day on a hammock after a nice massage on the beach. It was close to sunset. I was going through all that had happened in life up until that point in my head. And I was trying to see what was in store next. I did not know what I was going back to. No one was waiting for me. Certainly not a job. Whatever this next chapter was going to be, it was going to be a great fucking one. Thank you, Africa.