The animals of Africa are most active in the cool hours of the morning, so it was at six a.m. that we drove off the next morning on Safari. Semodar was moaning about the numerous insects, reptiles and other such monsters that had kept her awake all night, but the rest of us had benefited from better rooms and, well rested, we were eagerly anticipating the day’s adventures.
For the first hour or so, however, we saw nothing at all, save for two enormous vultures lurking menacingly on a bare tree. We did find the footprints of a lion on the track, but we were not able to find the lion at the end of them. They may well have been very close to the vehicle, but the tall grass and bushes made it practically impossible to see anything under five feet high. This was the disadvantage of traveling during June, the end of the rainy season; the advantage was that the temperature was a tolerable 27 degrees rather than the 45 degree heat of December/January.
The scenery in this part of the reserve was remarkable. It was coated with some sort of creeper-like growth, so that the bushes and trees appeared to be wearing exceptionally long sheitels. Everything was colored a lush green with a speckling of white from the numerous flowers.
Then one of the other vehicles approached us from ahead. As it drove passed us, its driver called out something to James, and the passengers, looking out of the roof, called out the news: “Buffalo!” We followed the trail that they had left behind them; it broke off the side of the track into the tall grass.
Bumping along on the grass, we all peered around excitedly to spot the buffalo. I couldn’t see anything amongst the large dark bushes peppering the grass. Then I noticed that the large dark bushes on the left were moving. “There they are!” I cried, and we all jostled in the roof to get the best view.
It was a breathtaking sight. There must have been well over a hundred buffalo sweeping majestically across the plain in front of us. Every few moments more would break out from the trees on our right, moving across our path to join the rest of the herd. These were not American buffalo, which are more accurately termed bison, but African water buffalo. They were huge, black oxen, with massive and majestic horns emerging from the sides of their broad heads and curving upwards.
Some of these buffalo reacted aggressively to our presence. Two large bulls, their enormous horns dwarfing their heads, stared at us with a hostile, if slightly imbecilic, look and pawed the ground angrily. James stopped the vehicle, and eventually they calmed down and moved away. Buffalo are considered the most dangerous animal in Africa. They will sometimes charge cars, and can cause considerable damage with their ton of body weight and their powerful horns.
After a considerable amount of uphill driving, the track changes from brown to deep black. James explained that we were traveling on the remains of an extinct volcano. We stopped for a break close to its peak; lacking plant growth, we would notice any dangerous animals approaching. I took considerable pleasure in hiding behind a tree and frightening Semodar by growling and snorting.
Driving along further, we began to see many animals grazing by the side of the road: herds of zebra, oryx, hartebeest, ostrich, impala, and waterbuck. None of them were remotely bothered by us. By this time we were all scoring points for spotting animals. James was by far the best; even while negotiating the difficult terrain, he could spot an animal a mile away. He was also expert at identifying them.
Semodar had a simple question for James. “James Bond! What do the zebras eat?” she boomed.
“Grass,” he replied innocently.
A look of horror appeared on Semodar’s face.
“Grass???” she gasped in shock.
“Yes, grass,” said James, puzzled at this somewhat unusual reaction.
“I can’t believe it!” she shrieked. “Grass!!! That’s incredible! It’s unbelievable!”
“Most of the animals eat grass,” said James, now greatly disturbed by the effect that this information was having on Semodar.
Then Semodar’s dark-skinned friend realized what was happening.
“No, no,” she called out in Hebrew to Semodar, “Not marijuana, grass!”
“Ahhhhhhh, I understand,” said Semodar with a sigh of relief, while I collapsed in uncontrollable laughter.
A while later we saw two of the other vehicles standing stationary by the side of the road. At first I couldn’t see what they were looking at; then I noticed it. It was some sort of cat; much larger than a house cat, but smaller than a leopard. It was colored a pale yellow with black spots and a short tail. “It’s a Tsavo cat,” said James. This was its local name; I later identified it as a serval. It was an extremely beautiful animal, lithe and graceful. After pacing along the track a few feet in front of the vehicles, totally unconcerned by our presence, it disappeared into the bushes.
At about ten in the morning we reached Mzima Springs. This was a place where we would leave the vehicles to walk along a short trail by a river. At the entrance to the trail, some monkeys were playing by a sign which had the skull of a buffalo affixed to it. It read as follows:
“CAUTION – You are likely to meet dangerous wild animals on this trail. Please proceed quietly and with caution. You process at your own risk. The national parks are not responsible for any eventuality.”
After a short walk we arrived at the river, which was flanked by a sign saying “Beware of crocodiles.” Fed by underground volcanic springs, the water was crystal clear. We could see hundreds of large fish swimming above the stony floor of the river. Of more interest, however, were the numerous hippopotami standing in the water some forty feet away from us. They were motionless, with only the tops of their heads and their huge backs above the water. On the far bank we saw an enormous crocodile, measuring some twelve feet long, basking in the sunlight. Fortunately, there were not any crocodiles on our side of the river (at least, none that we could see). Suddenly a ground-shaking roar echoed around the river; the sound of a hippo. It was terrifyingly loud.
A little way along the river was a short pier extending from the bank. At the end of this pier was a little hut extending down into the water. Walking inside, we found a staircase leading downwards. At the bottom was an underwater observation point. Large windows were set all around the walls, past which countless fish swam.
Unfortunately there were no hippos or crocs near enough to the windows for us to look at. However, by looking out through a gap on top of the windows, I could see straight along the surface of the river to the hippos on the far side, thereby gaining a hippo’s eye view of the hippo’s eyes viewing me. Fun!
We returned to the vehicle and drove back to the lodge for lunch, meeting a troop of baboons on the way. Back at the lodge, looking out at the waterhole, we saw a large herd of zebra that had come for a midday drink. I noticed a large praying mantis on a cup, and carefully picking up the cup by its handle, I walked over to Semodar.
“Here, I’ve got something for you,” I called out mischievously. The mantis waved its long, vicious arms in the air. Semodar yelped and jumped backwards, and I snickered evilly.
Sometimes, Hashem is prompt in meting out punishment. The mantis suddenly spread its wings and flew onto my bare arm. I screamed so loudly that everyone in the lodge turned to look. Waving my arms frantically in the air, I succeeded in making the mantis fly away.
It was time to leave Kilaguni Lodge. I stopped to have one final look at the incomparable view: the sweeping plains of the savanna, the herds of zebra at the waterhole, and Kilimanjaro looming in the distance. Wistfully, I turned and went to our vehicle.
On the journey back to Mombasa we stopped for a while at a souvenir store. An African came over to compare cultures with Semodar. He informed her that he had four wives, which cost him ten cows apiece. Semodar was not impressed. She was even less impressed when he asked her how much women cost in Tel Aviv.
“You don’t pay money for women in Israel,” she snorted at him. “It’s a free country.”
The African’s eyes popped out of his head. “Women are free??!” he gurgled in excitement. “I can take as many women as I want??!”
“No, no!” yelled Semodar, “Only if they also want!”
The African’s face fell, his utopian vision utterly dashed.
Finally, we arrived back at the Silver Star. That night’s entertainment was a group of Masai dancers. Around twelve Masai, all wearing the traditional red robes, stood before us. They began a chant which consisted of their saying huth, huth, huth, in a deep hum. Each of them took it in turns to step in front of the rest of the group and suddenly begin jumping straight up in the air, rising some three feet off the ground.
“What’s the symbolic significance of this dance?” I inquired of my father.
“I think,” he replied thoughtfully, “that it means, ‘I’m happy, and I like to jump a lot’.”
Jokes apart, I later discovered that the jumping dance really does have deep significance. Astonishingly enough, the Masai are monotheistic. The jumping represents an effort to reach G-d in Heaven.
That night, however, the jumping was just a crazy and fun thing to do. Happily, I hummed huth, huth, huth, as I jumped all the way back to my room for the night.
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