The scene before me could not be compared to anywhere else in the world. Parched yellow grass stretched before us as far as the eye could see, broken only by the occasional umbrella tree and a few hundred thousand migrating wildebeest that formed a thin, dusty gray line on the horizon to the north. As the sun beat down from above, heat vapors danced from the ground. This was the Serengeti, a place like no other!
Nine days earlier, my six-year-old son, Jerry, and I had arrived in Arusha, a beautiful Tanzanian ‘metropolis’ and the main departure point for those wishing to book cheap safaris. As with all visitors, the news of our arrival spread like wildfire. For dinner on the first night, three of Arusha’s tour operators were courting us. For breakfast our trip was booked.
Two days later we were out. Nothing was left to chance. A jeep, driver, cook, tents, water (though I felt better to bring my own) and park permits would be provided as part of our safari package.
WILDLIFE ABOUNDS
Five days of photographic paradise followed. The best of Tanzania: Lake Manyara, Ngorongoro Crater, Olduvai Gorge, they were all our playgrounds. Each was an oasis offering its own unique landscape and unimaginably diverse wildlife. Finally, looking over the Ngorongoro rim, I lowered the camera. No photo could do it justice. Those who don’t venture there will never know! All this greatness, and even the place of my calling, the Serengeti, lay ahead. This was the safari he had dreamed of.
An inconspicuous sign in the middle of nowhere marked our arrival at my 14,763 square kilometer site. field of dreams We had four days to spend in the Serengeti. Within twenty minutes, however, the giraffes galloped past in slow motion. Playful zebras danced in dust storms of their own making. Nearby, lionesses lovingly cared for playful cubs. This accomplished lifelong fantasy was designed for our film to capture. What more did we need?
I know we needed a drink of water. I reached, I looked, I counted, one! There was only one bottle of water in her box. Next, I added. Two people, six days out, three days to go, out of 13 bottles of water. He suspected a flaw in the plan. With little choice, I reluctantly handed the last bottle of ‘good’ water to my progeny. I would drink the questionable water provided by the safari operator for the rest of the trip. Why not? After all, it was a safari.
An hour later, still roasting in our jeep, we photographed an incredible golden lion as it lazed in the midday sun. This magnificent beast was obviously unaware of our presence. In his bed, a gigantic reddish-brown termite mound more than a meter high, could easily have slept two more.
FRUSTRATION TAKES A CLOSER
Inspired and thirsty, it was time to step forward with the courage of that lion and consume the mysterious water. Thomas, my driver, was an impeccably groomed fellow, smartly dressed, obviously well washed and well watered. As I approached, he flashed his perfect smile and asked me what I needed. Water, I replied. Thomas seemed ‘off’. “Ninataka maji ya kunywa” I tried. (trying Swahili because I need to drink water) Oh, Thomas replied, “Maji hapana” (meaning no water). I tried English again. We still had no water.
I’m sure my body temperature rose five degrees as I tried to figure out why Thomas hadn’t brought water from camp that day. Then it went up another eight degrees as he tried to figure out why he didn’t need to drink anything. Oh well, soon we’d be back at camp where she’d enjoy all the beige water she could ever want. I decided to hold on. See the lives. We were on safari.
As evening approached, we relaxed in the shade near a watering hole. The sweet smell of fresh water filled the air. The emerald green pond quivered ever so slightly with each movement of a hippo’s ear. As the sun sank, the parched orange horizon invited one last snapshot. It was time for our crew to head to camp.
Meanwhile, back at camp, our cook had dinner ready and waiting. Before the Jeep stopped, my door was open. I went to him thirsty, “maji ya kunywa?” I said. He replied, “Hapan maji.” “I mean water,” I spat regretfully. “You must have some to drink!” Both Thomas and the cook shook their heads and looked at me as if I was crazy to think that anyone would have water in the bush. Didn’t know you were on safari?
Not being father of the year, I brought my son water, some water anyway. We save the rest for the morning.
CONTEMPLATE THE SITUATION
I reluctantly sat through dinner watching my son, my driver, and my cook all laughing together on the men’s side of the camp. As a zoologist, you knew they had to have water, right? How stupid did they think he was? Then the questions swam in my mind. How could we stay here almost three more days without more water? What happened to the water that the tour company agreed to send? What did the cook cook with? How did Thomas keep himself so fucking clean? If I kill my offspring and drink his water, am I extradited or put on trial in Tanzania? And how stupid did they think he was?
That night I sat by the fire under the most brilliantly lit sky I have ever seen. I sat down to talk with Thomas, explaining that Homo Sapiens consumed water. It was a must! It was a fact! He didn’t buy it for a second. In the end, I gave up. I told my crew that we would have to return to Arusha the next day. If I had been alone, I would have risked dying of dehydration for another day, but the PTA frowns on this sort of thing. Obviously annoyed at my crazy whims, the boys gave in.
The rest of the night was spent reflecting on the days gone by, on our incredible experiences, and on something else, something strange. The previous morning, while driving through a dusty wallow, we had approached a Maasai warrior walking barefoot through the grasslands. Thomas came over to ask about cheetahs and such. As they talked, I looked over at this gorgeous-looking man leaning against the front of our jeep. His long, twisted strands of hair were red with ocher and fell elegantly over his perfectly shaped back. He was wearing traditional Maasai red cloth that was slightly tattered. In his right hand was a spear, pointed at both ends. In his left hand was the less traditional orange Fanta. Yeah, I did a double take. He was still an orange Fanta. Thinking back, I remembered drops of condensation. I was sure he was cold. I didn’t even think of H2O, a refreshing sugary drink. Was I hallucinating? Was he even on safari?
DISAPPEARING THROUGH THE BUSH
The stifling heat of the morning came too soon. Breakfast with thick condensed milk, I completely missed the place and reconfirmed my decision to leave. The cook and I started to pack up the camp. Jerry and Thomas (Tom and Jerry?) wandered into the bush together long before the job was done. Surprise! Whenever any project started, the men tended to vanish into the trees. In fact, upon completing the task at hand, I realized that my moisture retaining chef was missing. An hour later no one had returned.
I was protecting our waterless belongings from a pack of malicious baboons and couldn’t go looking for my three self-osmotic delinquents. Besides, if the men died, it would prove to them my theory that they needed water to live. Say oh! I would be vindicated! Wealth would prevail! So I sat down to film my new primate friends. After all, was he still on safari?
Half an hour later, the boys emerged from the bush, talking casually as they sipped their strawberry Fantas. My mouth fell open. Jerry casually pointed behind them as he passed and asked, “Mom, why didn’t you come to the refreshment stand with us? You could have at least gotten some bottled water.” I was left dumbfounded! Were they slurping every time they disappeared? What was a refreshment stand doing in the middle of…? Why didn’t someone just say it was…? Oh..? Was there a Denny’s there too? How foolish of me to have expected them to mention this. Oooooh! Didn’t I realize you were on safari?