White-hot, Pure, Blinding Fear

This trip is starting to feel *almost* too indulgent. Every day I wake up, and some new, great adventure is about to unfold in front of us…

On Wednesday, we went up to Kruger Park, the largest game reserve in South Africa, lying just west of the Mozambique border. It is here that the wild animals roam free on the savannah. Our hope was to spot the “Big 5” – the most elusive of all the game animals… the rhino, elephant, lion, leopard and buffalo.

We first flew into Choedspruit, a tiny village with a dirt-path airport, where we were greeted by a driver who drove us 30 minutes out into the bush, to our lodge. From there we met A.K. and Esther, the folks who would be taking care of us. Esther briefed us on getting back and forth from the lodge to our bungalow; we were allowed to walk the path freely during the day, but at nighttime, we were to be escorted by an armed guard. You see, they have a sparsely stringed electrical fence to keep the large animals out (elephants and giraffe), but it’s at nighttime that the “cats” come out, which are extremely dangerous - and they, obviously, can hop through any fence they want.

Upon entering the bungalow, I looked out the window and saw a herd of antelope peering back at me. At first, I couldn’t really wrap my head around the reality that we are cocooning ourselves in the animals’ natural habitat, and they simply roam wherever they like… and it is us that must take precaution (have I somehow, very simply summarized what it really means to be an American?).

Anywhoo, we scuttled back to the lodge, where we were directed outside to meet A.K., our guide. A.K., originally from the bush, reminded me of Crocodile Dundee, with a leather hat, safari wear, a rough and tumble, slightly abrasive affectionate way about him, topped off by a large wooden rifle, which he showed us was loaded with 4-inch long golden bullets, “just in case.” Great! I jumped into the can-opener-convertible Land Rover, and we were off. A.K. was at the wheel, and our tracker, Foster, was hanging off the front of truck, perched atop a small platform… his job was to track the animals nearby by the marks of recently snapped branches, animal prints, and freshly deposited dung.

Riding in this truck was no different than sitting on top of a charging elephant. You’re bumped around from side to side, as the truck lurches through gullies and trenches, up steep grades, and across the plains…

The animals found us fairly quickly. We were greeted by a herd (I’m sorry, I don’t remember all of the names for groups of animals: “school,” “pride,” “mob” … so I’m just going to call everything a herd) of zebra and giraffe, roaming the savannah, nibbling on plants and leaves. The giraffe and zebra are so omnipresent, along with the various brands of antelope who are hopping around everywhere, that you get used to them quickly. We had our sights set on finding a leopard which A.K. and Foster knew was in the area…

For hours, we drove along the plain, careening and lurching about, as the sun set, and the nighttime sounds emerged of screaming eagles, crickets, and the slow, subtle chomping of peaceful herbivores around you. The tall grasses of the savannah sounded like water slapping on the sides of the truck, as we drove through field after field, in search of the spotted cat. A.K. was determined, calling other trackers and guides on his short-wave radio, trying to find the invisible leopard.

Exasperated, A.K. cursed the animal, and promised us a more auspicious morning drive, turning us back in the direction of the lodge… at which point, we almost drove smack into the side of a lone elephant, snapping off braches from a tree for a midnight snack. We just sat there in the darkness, as Foster held a spotlight on the animal, silently watching this massive animal chomp away, our mouths agape.

I decided to sit in front of the fire at the lodge, while Jane was escorted back to the bungalow – where she and the guard promptly came face to face with the elusive leopard, who, apparently, just sat there at the base of a tree, licking his paws hungrily, glancing at the two of them only occasionally. It sounded as though he was mocking us, as we spent hours bumping and crashing through the bush, and he was sitting here all along…

We awoke at 6am the next morning to the screams of about 70 angry baboons running through the surrounding trees, and tumbled back into the truck. The hours presented us more gracefully galloping giraffe (giraffes?), antelope, wildebeest, and ostrich… but nothing prepared me for the amazing finale of our short stay in Kruger Park…

After 4 hours in the truck, A.K. got word on his radio of a group of lions who had just finished feasting on a fresh kill. He promptly turned us around, and, as if searching in the dark (turn left at the ditch, continue about 400 meters through the grass until you come to the large podded mahogany tree), brought us to the digesting ground of two lionesses and one massive, proud, regal lion, sitting there, lazing in the sun, their bellies full of antelope. He slowly drove us up within 20 feet of the lions, causing one of the lionesses to start flicking her tail and narrow her eyes.

(I would like to take a deep breath at this moment, and try to convey to you just how BIG these animals are. I think the bars at the zoo somehow make them look smaller, which left me wide-eyed and incredulous of the size of these cats… they are easily the size a minivan.)

But I digress. It was right about then that I tasted my breakfast prior, as the lioness began to grumble at us. I am not ashamed to say that I panicked. I completely panicked. I believe I grabbed hold of A.K. and started whisper-screaming like a little girl, as the lioness, well, she roared at us, and promptly lunged at our truck, shooting my body with the most white-hot, pure, blinding fear I have ever felt in my life. I get dizzy just thinking about it.

A.K., being the experienced guide, started speaking very slowly and monotone (To me? The lioness? I have no idea…) and backed the truck up very slowly, retreating into the bush.

And now, I’d like to talk to you about fear. When we returned to the lodge, I literally felt so doped up on adrenaline and endorphins, that my legs were wobbly and my head was spinning. It was staggering. I’ve never experienced a runner’s high, but I imagine that this is kind of what it must feel like. I laughed to myself, as I walked back to the bungalow to gather my things, realizing that I’ve never really experienced fear before. People have asked “What are you most afraid of?” and I would respond with things like “Being alone” or “Losing my job” … and that day, I realized what I was afraid of.

Lions.

Madam, There's a Lemur on Your Femur.

Where to begin?

The AIDS and TB clinic in Tana was exactly what one would expect in such a poor country. It was set back, off the street, tucked away in a back alley, so as to hide the faces of those who come in to get tested or receive treatment. The understanding of HIV is so primitive, primarily because, up until now, the disease has not decimated the population the way it has in sub-Saharan Africa. Why? For starters, because it is an isolated island, and hasn’t been exposed (yet) to the factors that cause for the rapid spread. First, there are few roads, providing access across the country. Few roads have discouraged easy development. This means fewer truck drivers, which has been one of the major players of the spread of the disease in Africa – drivers traveling across the continent, having relations along the way, leaving a trail which can literally be tracked. So many more factors, but unfortunately, I don’t have much time here, so I’ll just say that Madagascar is standing at the precipice, about the explode, joining the pandemic. All the signs point in this direction, unless education, prevention and intervention are implemented now. This is a major part of the clinic’s mission.

After Tana, Luc, Jane and I piled into Luc’s truck and drove three hours to the coast, passing through spectacular mountains, rainforests, and started to see the bleak truth of Madagascar’s environmental challenges. More than 80% of the island has been deforested, leaving their rich, indigenous ecosystem out-of-balance. The areas that have been left are simply dripping with natural luxury – trees, birds, animals, waterfalls, rainforest… but they are struggling to exist in the small patches of lushness that have been protected.

Andasibe is one of the best rainforests to view the lemurs – they’re simply everywhere. We took a short canoe ride across a river, to an island serving as a preserve. We took only about 10 steps where we were greeted by huge, black and white lemurs, looking like a cross between a monkey and a panda bear. You can get so close to them, as they peer into your face, wondering “What the heck are YOU doing here?”

I must digress for a moment, to tell the story of Ramus, a Malagasy/Indian/Canadian man we met along the way, who invited us to his house for breakfast in Tana. His father came from India – was brought, is more like it – to work as a servant (slave) as a small child. His youth was spent serving the Malagasy and French aristocracy. Eventually, he had his son, Ramus, who, like all non-pureblood Malagasy, was denied Malagasy citizenship. In effect, he was without citizenship, denied a passport, stuck in a life and an identity in-between. He eventually realized that his life would be limited, so he sought exile in Canada, where he was given citizenship. He now works for CIDA, the Canadian International Development Agency, focusing on child labor in Madagascar.

Over breakfast, Ramus said to me, “You don’t want to get sick in Madagascar. If you do, you might as well forget about it.” The services are slim to nonexistent.

So this was the voice that was ringing in my ear, as I stepped onto the island and greeted the lemurs. And this was the voice that was ringing in my ear, as, not one, not two, but three lemurs jumped onto my head and shoulders, leaning over, peering into my eyes and picking through my hair. They pulled my ponytail out, held my hand and patted my face with the utmost curiosity, as I stood there silently screaming on the inside, begging, pleading, praying that they wouldn’t bite me. Our guide merely laughed, and told me to relax - they’re completely harmless. The acute anxiety eventually dissipated, but I spent the rest of the afternoon, wandering around the island, battling minor panic attacks (though with a smile on my face), as lemurs jumped from the trees onto my head, shimmying up and down my leg.

The next day, Luc dropped us off at the airport, where we caught a flight back to Johannesburg, where we were greeted by Tumelo – a dear friend from graduate school, who has agreed to host us for the rest of our time here in Africa. Tumelo grew up in Soweto, and has quite a story to tell…