South Africa

My awesome parents are headed to Africa in October - never been, just feeling it might be a good idea -- which has brought back reflections of my own trip to South Africa some years ago.  Summertime is the best time to do this kind of musing, by the way.  Along with the sunshine and warmer temps, summer seems to bring with it new clarity regarding just about everything.  Lately I find myself thinking about experiences that happened years ago -- apparently for no reason other than my mind is less cluttered and more free to wander during these quieter, calmer months.  As for South Africa, it's been a while since I've really "gone back" to that particular time, and although the entire experience is really memorable, there was a game reserve that I visited - Londololozi - that stands out in particular. 

The routine at Londolozi was peacefully monotonous.  We would awake early, around 5:00 AM, head to the main lodge for a huge breakfast buffet (marveling at the monkeys swinging around just outside the open-air seating), and then head out on one of the specially outfitted, topless land rovers for a morning safari.  We would return a few hours later for lunch and a free afternoon, followed by an early evening safari and an outdoor, grilled meal served at large communal tables.

The game rangers at Londolozi were generally young, white South African men who had studied to become rangers and were well-trained regarding all of the animals and flora that we saw on our daily jaunts.  The trackers (ie, the men who would sit at the front of the vehicles and hunt for animal tracks), were generally well-weathered, black South African men who were not necessarily trained, but who had so much knowledge of the bush that all one could do was sit back in wonder as they repeatedly led us to spots where we could closely observe a multitude of animals (lions, hyena, elephants, rhino, cheetah, to name a few), in their natural habitats.

Being young and alone, I was befriended by some of the game rangers early in my stay and began attending their after-hours parties.  The rangers were required to dine with all of the guests at dinner, but afterwards I would go with them to a different area of the reserve where the staff would have their own more casual gatherings. These experiences were great fun as they offered a window into what seemed to me to be authentic South African culture -- something I greatly admired and was happy to be included in.

One night, my new friend John M. suggested that we go into the bush alone -- he wanted to show me something.  I agreed and wasn't much concerned when he strapped on a rifle (red light, anyone?) before heading out on the land rover.  As we made our way into the bush we passed an old pickup truck with a huge mound of impala in the back.  Some were still breathing, but all were doomed to be our dinner the following night.  It was one of the first times I acutely realized where our meat comes from -- and probably laid the groundwork for my later decision to go veggie.  At the time I was wolfing down a lot of cheeseburgers and, on this trip, impala.  John explained that killing and serving the animals for dinner (kabobs!) was an efficient way of handling over-population.  Just like the deer back at home.  Sigh.

We continued onward; me holding a large lamp that John entrusted to me and which I clumsily jerked around the darkness as he called out instructions, hoping to spot something interesting.  Have you ever been in the African bush at night alone with a dude you just met a coupla days ago?  It's a surreal experience.  Aside from the excitement of doing something so completely unexpected, the sounds we heard during that night drive were like something out of a movie.  Add to that the fact that John would periodically kill the lights and the engine of the land rover so that we could sit in darkness to "hear better" and, well, it was pretty much an incomparable experience.

Eventually, after crashing around through some trees and bushes (never leaving the vehicle) we came to what seemed to be a large clearing.  My heart was pounding out of my chest as John directed me to shine the lamp directly in front of us.  There -- to my astonishment -- was a pride of 15 or more lions lounging about in the pale moonlight.  To our right two were mating.  John looked at me; I gawked at him and he grinned broadly.  Apparently, mission accomplished.  I grinned in return and thought, "Okay, a little weird, but best date ever!", while the words to Prince's song strummed along in my head, "...animals strike curious poses...."

Fast-forward to 2011 and it nearly feels like that whole episode never happened -- good thing I have some photos (pre-digital, so only a precious few) to remind myself.  In them I am young, naive and obliviously happy.  They record one of those brief and rare moments in a lifetime -- in my lifetime, at least -- when I achieved something I was always looking for back then, and even sometimes today -- anonymity.  I yearned for the feeling of being "lost" and creating a new me.  Who can say why.  I have a close and loving family that, then as today, I miss intensely when I'm away for too long.  And yet -- there was/is something magical about wandering alone in a place where no one knows you -- and where no one knows you are.  I think it's possibility. 

When it came time for me to leave Londolozi, I was sad, sad, sad.  I'd been there only a short time, but the lifestyle and beauty of the land, the people and the animals had resonated deeply.  I didn't want to leave, but I did anyway, telling myself that I would go home, save money, and come back to stay.  I remember sitting in my seat on the little prop plane, literally waiting for a giraffe to leave the runway so that we could take-off, and thinking, rather dramatically and grandly, "This is where I belong."

Of course, those feelings faded after I returned home to work, friends, family and a new boyfriend (hello, Roc!), whom I later married.  I did keep in touch with some of the people at Londolozi for a few months afterward -- actually, based on letters I've recently uncovered in my stash of treasured notes, we kept in touch longer that I realized - mostly via fax - which is hard to imagine now.  Funny how time washed away the relationship part, but left the strong connection to South Africa intact.  Our minds do that sometimes.

A friend suggested that I could "find" some of the people I met at Londolozi on Facebook if I really wanted, but I'd rather not.  I like to remember them just as they were then -- young and idealistic, entertaining the tourists...showing off the lions and showcasing the best thing of all...possibility.