I have been mesmerized by the deepest cerulean blue of oxygen-starved icebergs on the Antarctic Circle. I have absorbed the mysticism and spirituality emanating from the temples of Angor Wat. I have been transformed by the serenity of the Buddha in Thailand. I have marveled at the beauty of the Sydney Opera House and Botanical Gardens. I have seen the treasures of America’s cities and America’s national parks; and been entranced by the history of Europe and Rome. Yes, I have been very, very fortunate to have traveled all over the world. From each trip, I returned satisfied and enriched by the experience–but there is one place that calls me back…Africa.
My daughter and I went South Africa last fall. And I must confess that while I am an adventurous traveler, I require comfort. Once I hit my 20’s, tents became an uncomfortable memory. So we chose to stay in places that had individual guest bungalows. Cape Town was lovely, but it wasn’t until we went into Kruger National Park that our world changed.
Our park experience began before dawn, when we blindly put on as many winter clothes as we could (it was in the 50’s) and jumped into an open-air Range Rover accompanied by our driver (an experienced ranger) and a tracker sitting in a jump seat in the front of the vehicle. We began each safari feeling the cold, dry, expansive air and experiencing the African sunrise, silently marveling at the large red sphere climbing over the horizon to welcome us to our homeland. The air is large, the fragrance both complex and indescribable. I asked one of our guides which bush was the source of the scent, but he looked at me puzzled, these are African skies.
We were jostled and bumped to see our quarry, one of the big five (cape buffalo, lion, leopard, rhinoceros, elephant) or our favorites, the giraffes and zebras. We were under strict orders to remain in our vehicle while we watched the animals that warily allowed us into their world. It took all of my willpower not to try to touch them, we were so close. Part of the excitement was the danger, but mostly it was being able to watch the richness of a natural life. We stayed out for 3 hours, and then returned at dusk to experience the red African sunset and spend another 3 hours observing the night show. Most animals emerge at night—the prey under the cover of darkness, the predators using their other senses to conquer their victims. Even the hippopotamuses emerge from their river sanctuary.
We felt at home under these African skies, where our ancestors had trekked over these lands. At night, we dined on food roasted on an open fire in the BOMA, a communal outdoor eating area.
One particularly cold night, the fire was smoking so badly that my asthma kicked in and I had to return to my bungalow to get my inhaler. Since the bungalows were within the park, policy dictated that I had to be accompanied by a ranger to protect me from unexpected encounters with wild predators. However, I had grown weary of this requirement. Our rangers worked on African time and it could take as long as 20 minutes to find an escort. So I started to sneak out on my own, only to be discovered by a very handsome, tall 30-something ranger who insisted on accompanying me. Thirty feet in front of our bungalow, he grabbed me around my waist and moved me to the side. A 30’s version of me would assume that he was putting a move on me, but now in my 60’s I knew better.
“Stop,” he whispered and pointed his flashlight to a crouched leopard glowering at us from 4 feet away. “She is not the one I am worried about, I can’t see her mate,” he commented as he slowly pulled a large knife out of his back pocket.
Our rangers have been trained to slit the throat of an attacking lion or leopard; and are able to kill a charging rhino or elephant with a single shot; so despite my heightened senses, I was not afraid.
“What do I do?” I whispered, exhilarated and grateful that I had allowed him to escort me.
“We remain still until she stops staring at us. That will be the sign that she is no longer interested in us.”
So we waited in frozen silence, my asthma attack vanquished by the adrenaline now flowing inside me. Then at his silent signal, we slowly and calmly walked to my bungalow.
That night I heard the loud, anguished growls of mating leopards. Like the African sky, this growl must be experienced; an unnatural, intense guttural moan. Their cries surrounded and vibrated through my bungalow. I learned later that this pair was using my bungalow grounds as their “love nest”. The female had chosen a new mate, cheating on the dominant male with his virile son. As we have discovered in the human kingdom, this handsome younger guy turned out to be a disappointment. A female leopard, driven by a need to reproduce, mates every two hours, while this particular male was quite content with his single conquest. All night they growled at each other in mutual frustration—he wanting to be left alone and she, singular in her pursuit.
Ignoring caution, I instinctively opened the windows and went outside to replace the heavy wooden doors with screens, oblivious to the cool air and the danger from two angry leopards. I needed to be a part of that African night. I needed to absorb those strangely familiar sounds that had been encoded in my DNA.
Angela Rieck was born and raised on a farm in Caroline County. After receiving her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland, she worked as a scientist at Bell Laboratories in New Jersey. Throughout her career, she held management jobs at AT&T, HP and Medco, finally retiring as a corporate executive for a large financial services company. Angela is also a wife, mother and an active volunteer serving on the Morris County School Board for 13 years and fostering and rehabilitating over 200 dogs. After the death of her husband, Dr. Rieck returned to the Eastern Shore to be with her siblings. With a daughter living and working in New York City, she and her dogs now split their time between Talbot County and Key West, FL.
Amy Bondurant says
This is so well written. I felt as if I had been transported to the African wild.