Habari za safari?

1. Day one, morning one. We've driving to little-visited Arusha National Park on the shoulders of Mt. Meru. It rained so hard during the night that our bathroom flooded. It was not comforting to wake to the sound of pounding rain on a tin roof given that we were to be leaving on an 8 day camping safari in the morning. Walking to breakfast in the rain, we avoid stepping on the fat toads that have appeared to feast on the fat insects that are swarming in the rain. And then we're on our way out of town, and then onto a bumpy road (not so bad in retrospect) and pushing under the gate and past the fence into the national park. Immediately - and I mean immediately - we see a giraffe not too far off the road, bending its long neck to eat from the low-lying scrub. We ogle. Later, we hike in the pouring rain that comes at an angle that manages to get under our rain jakets. We pass giraffes that are only 6 feet along and 21 feet up away from us. Yes, it's a good day.

2. Pushing under another gate and past another fence, we enter the immense plain of the Serengetti. Grass stretches unbroken by tree or bush to the shimmering horizon. Immense lakes appear in the distance and then evaporate as we approach: mirages. I feel very, very small. We turn off the main road and bump toward a hillock behind which is a muddy pool. Five lions lie there sleeping, one male on his back. A little above the pool in the grass rests a sixth lion. We drive around them, through them, stop to watch them from a distance of 6 feet. They do not appear to care. When the male lion rights himself and yawns, I can see the whiteness of his teeth and the pinkness of his tongue. Yes, it's a very good day.

3. We're on our way back to our tent after a long day of driving around the Serengetti. We've been moving in and out of rain, lowering and raising the roof of the land cruiser. All around us, there are small pockets of grey cloud streaked toward the horizon, interspersed with sunlit clouds. The sky looks like it was a swirling mess of twisting motion until someone just hit the pause button - all is still. We round a corner back into the rain and into the middle of a herd of wildebeest that is approaching a million strong. Masha (our driver and guide) cuts the engine and we coast to a stop. The sun probably hasn't set yet thought the heavy grey clouds give the air the color of deep dusk. Above, thunder carooms and lightening burns stripes across our retinas. On the ground, there is the grunting of the wildebeest and the barking of the zebras. In the background a buzz that I take to be flies but then realize is the sound of a million hooves moving through grass. The air is alive and crackling. We sit in silent witness. It is literally awesome.

4. Day 8 and we are tired, very very tired. We are woken up before there is any hint of morning to the air or sky. The full moon is lowering its yellow self into the acacia scrub. We are near Lake Eyasi though we're yet to see anything resembling a lake -or water, for that matter. Its dry scrubland. Before dawn, we are bouncing our way toward the Hadzabe family with whom we will be hunting. The men are gathered around a fire smoking when we arrive. We greet them, our tongues awkwardly inserting a click into the middle of "Matundo", shake hands. Then we are off and running. I'm a fast walker but they put me to shame. We're down in a dry river bed, the dirt the color of mud, scaled and curled into leaflets. It looks like it should be wet but it's bone dry. We are four hunters, one guide, two wazungu (white folk) and a pack of dogs. Occasionally the hunters speed up and the dogs get excited. A tree of fat birds but no catch. Then things get really exciting and somehow I understand that they are hunting a monkey. I run up the side of the embankment through soft red sand and into a thicket of acacia. The monkey moves by in the treetops followed by a hunter. The bush is impenetrable - as I push through, I'm sure my clothes are tearing. Then I spy a trail, so low I have to take off my day pack and crawl through. I emerge with sticks in my hair to find that the monkey has been caught. It gets thrown down from the tree where the dogs immediately go for it. Z and I follow the older of the hunters and he passes me the monkey to carry. I grip its still not yet cold front paws and try to keep the dogs away. And then it's on the fire and then it's in my mouth. I do my best to chew, my best to swallow - but the taste is so strong, so sickening that I begin to gag. I subtly spit it out and drop it to a scavenging dog. I did my best but must admit that the monkey beat me.

The road back from Eyasi to the tarmac is terrible - it's a braid of roads through fine red dust that gets into everything. I am so exhausted that I manage to fall asleep in the car, waking when a particularly deep pothole slams my head into the side of the truck. Unphased, I fall back asleep. I wake up with a start remembering the baby monkey's death. I'm awake all the way back to Arusha.

I set out on safari hoping to see a zebra and a giraffe, a hyena and an ostrich and maybe, just maybe, a lion. I saw so much more. Over the years of hiking in the California wilderness I have seen a bear or three, a mountain lion, a bobcat, a bunch of deer and a few foxes. And here, in eight short days, I saw so so so much life. Life and death. Lions mating by the side of the road. A hyena with a tail in its mouth. Ostriches doing a mating dance. Vultures and lions tearing at carcasses. Baby elephants. A baby giraffe in the road not sure which way to turn, a car in either direction. It runs off the road toward its kin. Its legs move like those of a horse, fast. But above the churning feet all is still - the head on that impossibly long neck glides above. It's graceful and yet also awkward. The giraffe is almost my favorite animal, though after all consideration, the prize goes to the warthogs which look exactly like Disney caricatures of themselves. It's easy to give them gruff voices and impatient personalities. And there were cheetahs in the grass and a leopard in a tree. It's astonishing. I can't recommend safari enough. Everyone should see the Serengetti. And then after you've visited there, you should meet up with us wherever we may be.