So here I am, sitting in the departure lounge at Ben Gurion airport at one a.m., typing on my palmtop computer. Looking around at other travelers, specifically yeshiva bachurim, I am acutely aware of how - well, un-yeshivish I look. I am wearing hiking boots, beige chinos, a dark blue shirt and an Australian outback hat with a big floppy brim. I look as though I am about to go on safari.
The reason for this is that my destination is vastly different to theirs. It is with a degree of thrill that I write that my destination is not New York, nor London, nor Zurich, but Mombasa, Kenya. I actually am, G-d willing, about to go on safari. Wow!
Actually, it’s difficult to get so excited about it because I have absolutely no idea what to expect. Will the natives revere me as some sort of god? Will there just be a cornfield for the “big white bird” to land on? At least I’ve had all my shots and I’ve been taking my anti-malaria tablets. Maybe –
Whoops, they’re boarding. Time to go.
1:45 a.m. Well, they changed their minds about boarding. It seems that there’s a problem with the plane, so we’re spending another hour and a half in the airport. It’s always unnerving when they have to fix an airplane at the last minute. Or perhaps the pilot has just lost his keys.
3:15 a.m. “Attention all passengers on flight LY 5536 to Mombasa, El Al regrets the continued delay and will serve a complimentary breakfast in the restaurant now.”
3:30 a.m. After having made new American friends in the lengthy queue to receive our complimentary breakfast – Sandy and Marlene Schwartz from Rana’ana, and Manny Samuels from Pisgat Ze’ev – we hear that the plane is now boarding. There’s no time to eat the breakfast, but who’s complaining? At last, we’re off.
The flight is short, only five hours, and uneventful. As daylight breaks the landscape below becomes visible: endless miles of desert. It is a magnificent and lonely sight; I am unable to locate any herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically across the plains. Contrary to everything I have ever learned about geography, the sky over the plains of Kenya is simply much bigger than anywhere else.
Then, as we approach the coastal region of Kenya, the scenery changes to lush jungle, punctuated by rivers and lagoons, and I don’t miss the opportunity to take a photograph.
The plane begins to descend towards the ground. But there’s no sign of any airport. In fact, there’s no sign of any civilization; just the jungle and a few shacks here and there. It seems that we are landing on a cornfield, after all. Should I get some beads ready to trade with the natives for food and water?
9:10 a.m. Touchdown! On tarmac, thankfully. As we taxi down the runway, I look out to see a tiny but respectable airport surrounded by black men in army uniform. The weather is overcast, the scenery is lush.
We’re in Africa.
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