Feeling the safety of the still ground beneath me as I hopped off the land cruiser, I slowly began to feel the adrenaline leak from my body as the cold surreptitiously seeped in. Nights in Kruger seemed frigid compared to the warm sun-kissed days, and I was beginning to wonder if I would wake up with pale blue frost- bitten limbs from a night in our non-heated jumbo hut. The dry, crisp air was filled with the wintery incense of burning wood, a sure sign that our boma dinner was about to convene. Under an starry sky, a rural fortress of tall sticks enclosed a rustic dining area of long beautifully dressed tables, caldron fire pits, illuminated acacia trees, and an impressive buffet displaying authentic African fare.
I was immediately drawn to the spitting flames as I drew my body as close to the small blaze as possible without baking my organs or singeing my eyelashes. The guests and rangers were beginning to trickle in, all gravitating to the glowing fiery swirls as they rubbed their hands profusely using the heat and friction to warm their cold bodies. Nothing seemed more appropriate than a robust glass of red wine and an enthusiastic toast to compliment the outrageous evening we had all just shared. Once our muscles gave way to the warming stimulation of a glass of Constantia, an outbreak of personal stories began to flow as fast as the fragrant butternut squash being poured into our porcelain bowls. Tales of past safaris, trips to the Orient, Middle East and Europe, political debates and constant questioning about how my husband and I remained US citizens throughout little Bush’s administration fueled hours of insightful conversation. Although we barely knew one another, the experience we had shared just hours before had created an instantaneous friendship that seemed to link us somewhere in the midst of nowhere from scattered origins across an expansive globe. To make things even more memorable, the staff performed a traditional tribal dance of powerful, upbeat, melodious song which flowed in tune with the passionate, rhythmic whirls of light-hearted choreography to end the evening in congruity with a spectacular day.
With the dawn of each life-breathing sunrise the beauty of the dry vast landscape became one with the ebb and flow of my inner being. Majestic creatures roamed free, allowing a glimpse of a world that so few ever really understand and respect. Witnessing the compassion of an elephant matriarch nurturing and defending her adopted young, or watching a lioness leading her pride through a laborious hunt, or gazing as Cape buffalo court one another through hysterical facial expressions, could only be described as mythical. It was as if this completely separate, fascinating world existed unscathed and isolated.
It is hard to describe the kind of attachment one can form to such a dynamic place. I fell in love with the tick of nature’s clock, living the way humans were meant to live. Copious amounts of sunlight, breathing unenclosed oxygen, and stopping to observe the tiny enigmas that in a very unexpected way, made me feel so completely whole. I knew with an unquestioning instinct that this was the way our species was supposed to exist– a part not apart — from the natural world, as caretakers not destroyers of the one planet we have to call home.
As my husband and I left for the airstrip I leaned on him searching to be consoled. I did not want to leave as I knew a part of me would always be searching for the peace I had found here. I knew that more good was to come in our next excursion to a rare sand forest, but it was unbearable for me to think that I would most likely never again see the people we came to know as friends. Tears streaming down my face, I said goodbye to Exeter and Sabi Sands taking in a gulp of sweet air. It was time to move on to the next part of our journey, and to become acquainted with a different Africa; one of unforgiving circumstances and astounding beauty.
