“TAILS” FROM AFRICA

            (Part one)

The winter’s sun soon will make its appearance to thaw the dew on the African grass.

Rubbing the sleep off our eyes, the more intrepid have left the warm beds to meet in the main building of the Safari Park.  The owner of the park, guides and drivers have jeeps ready.  Engines purr warming up; their lights illuminate the still dark dawn.  The aroma of fresh brew coffee overpowers the gentle fragrance of flora that surrounds the bungalows.  The steaming coffee momentarily warms up our hands, takes the chill of our somnolent bodies.

Only two women have decided to brave the very early start: Marcie, American on her honeymoon and myself.

The three jeeps leave in convoy.  Marcie; her husband Paul, Mat; –owner of the Safari Park, Piri; -best guide, Mambo; -one of the drivers, and myself travel in the first jeep.  Two other jeeps follow with French speaking tourist, their bodies wrapped up in blankets against the cold.  Some voice their disagreement at having been waken up so early.

The view from the dusty road is breathtaking; soon we are wide-awake.  Alongside the riverbank hippos graze on grass and bushes, juicy with melting dew.  Some mothers hurry to take their young to the safety of the water while the jeeps pass-by.  Gazelles, taken by surprise, scatter jumping graciously here and there.

I am sitting next to Piri on the front seat.  My arm rests on the wound-down window, it receives the welcoming caress (at this early hour) of the first sunrays.  On the accumulated dust that lines the edge of the unsealed road, I can see prints: one does not need to be a Sherlock Holmes, nor guide to know that these prints are very recent.  Piri, of course, has seen them long before me.  He smiles and winks at me: “lions” he says.  “Lions! Truly”? I gape astonished, unable to believe our good fortune.

The excitement runs like lighting amongst us.  Mat tells the driver to speed up while Piri makes radio contact with the other jeeps, for it is a long while since we had been separated in search of game.  Although I cannot understand a word of Piri’s talk I imagine he is telling the others we may see lions.

The jeep has accelerated to 30 km an hour, which makes its engine sound –in the silence of the savannah- like thunder and we, ignorant of the terrain, think the noise will frighten away any wild life.  However, Mat is an expert and knows what he is doing, besides; he wants us to see “lions before lunch” and so it is.

Leaving behind a curve of the road, far ahead on the distance we can see two silhouettes walking on the middle of the road: two lions leisurely strolling!    The jeep reduces speed. 

Mat, Piri and Mambo whisper in their language.  Mat softly speaks into the radio’s mike.

Piri tells Mambo something, the latter gets visible nervous; few drops of perspiration line his face.

The lions are aware of our intrusion but do not give up one centimetre of space on the road.  The jeep follows them at very close distance.  The bumper-bars on the vehicle at arm’s length of swinging tails.  The lions, as one, turn their heads towards us, their eyes give us an over-the-shoulder, condescending, haughty, disdainful look!  There be no doubts about it, we understand: lions are kings of the place… road included!

What magnificent specimens! No photographs, no words can describe such wild beauty.  Big.  Majestic.  Manes long and golden.  Their tails slightly swinging in beauty harmony and unison at the pace of their rumps; these in turn move graciously sideways in their feline walk.  Splendid!

Tired and undoubtedly bored, the lions leave the road and go towards the tall grass within the vast plain to escape our unwelcome presence.  In vain.  The jeeps follow them merciless.  For some moments we lose them; hidden in the abundant vegetation.  Soon they reappear and we are next to them again.  Are they playing hide-and-seek with us?

Suddenly a roar, at first not much more than a grunt; soon the roar turns ear splitting… there is not mistaking their fury.  Mat gives the signal and the jeeps scatter via different paths.

Someone in our jeeps comments on the time: nearly 11am.  Is it possible?  Close to 5 hours since we left early this morning.  It seems to be 5 minutes ago.  We also notice something else; we are starving hungry, dusty our posteriors somewhat bruised from the bumpy terrain.  It is time to go back to base.

On the way back to the Park we are euphoric with the morning safari, we chat happily.

We are on the road that belongs to the Safari Park.  Piri spots a pride of lions; several lionesses and their cubs resting, taking shelter from hot sun under thick bushes.  They are so well camouflaged that no one else has noticed them.  The jeep approaches them ever so slow, its engine a faint hum.  The cats know we are getting close but remain unperturbed.  We see the cubs: some are feeding; others play biting each other’s tails and ears; rolling on the foliage accumulated on the ground.  Beautiful!  The cubs are so cute, they look at us unconcerned and keep on running about.  Without warning Piri swears under his breath.   “We have a puncture,” he says.  The spare tyre is… under our seats!

Mat lets go a litany of swearwords in all languages he knows.  The radio does not respond to his calls, which means we have to… no, let me rephrase it… THEY, have to change the tyre.  By ‘they’ it’s understood: Mat, Paul, Piri and Mambo, of course!

The men consult amongst themselves.  Who is the more experienced to do the task? None seem to be too egger to volunteer for the job.  Finally they come to an accord; Paul and 

Piri will change the wheel, while Mat and Mambo take off seats, left tyre and replace seats.

First they have to remove the sick jeep away from mothers and cabs, and Mambo drives the flop – flop vehicle to a safe distance from the lions.

Mat handles me the rifle…?  Why me!?  Marcie tells her husband: “honey take care..!” we all speak at once: Mat tells me pointing towards the lionesses and their ‘youngsters’;

“if you see them move, shoot!”  Paul answers Marcie; “…don’t worry honey, if I see them move I shall be in the jeep in a flash!”  And I; “shoot…? me…?, …how do you fire this thing?!”

In the (now) comic confusion that follows Marcie and I exchange looks.  The rifle is nearly as long as I am tall; the trigger seems to have some sort of safety latch, how does one remove or released it?

Just then, by the corner of my eye some sort of movement calls my attention…, it is as if a puff of breeze had gently sway the dried grass.  But there is not a drop of wind; not the slightly -teeny- wee- bit.  I look.  At first I fail to see anything, then with a jolt it hits me: the movement has been caused by a tail!, a lion’s tail!  there he is; tired, lethargy lying on and hidden by the tall, dried grass –fanning himself with his tail!   Oh…! My God!

With a whisper I point it to Marcie.  We hold our breath…then swear like troupers…!

We are surrounded by lions!  Lucky for us they don’t appear to be hungry and it seems to be their siesta time.  Through a window Marcie tell her husband that there are more lions about, in fact they are more sleeping under a tree very near-by.  Of a sudden Paul’s and Piri’s hands have an instantaneous burst of swiftness; the tyre gets changed in Grand-Prix-Record-Time.

The four men are back in the jeep in a jiffy.  Marcie calls her husband “my hero!” time and time again while covering his face with kisses.   And we are able to laugh off this ‘lions’ share’ adventure.

Upon reaching the Park, our little uncalled for event is being talked about by everyone, this bush telegraph sure is fast!