you can be blaze about some things, but not about a giraffe

Last week my parents came to visit Tanzania.  First on our itinerary was a visit to Mikumi National Park, in central Tanzania.  Initially they were reluctant – no one in my family is particularly into animals, as pets, in zoos, or otherwise.  Plus, the costs of doing any kind of safari in Tanzania are generally speaking prohibitive. Nevertheless, at my insistence, you cant come to Tanzania and not see some sort of wild animal! – there we were.

In our circa 1970’s Land Rover, equipped with a good driver but without seatbelts, we moved at a slow clip.  It wasn’t long before we were rewarded with impalas languidly grazing the tawny grass (it’s the dry season) and giraffes ambling amid the trees.  Each time we spotted an animal or group of animals, the driver dutifully halted the car to allow us to take about a million pictures alternating between our point and shoot cameras and the video camera.

Standing with my upper body poking through the elevated roof of the vehicle, I became increasingly bored with the spot – slow – photograph pattern of the afternoon.  Another giraffe? Big deal.  A couple of weeks ago I was walking among giraffes – alone!  And then it struck me – did I really just think that?  For those of you who have listened to me quote Titanic for the last fifteen years, it won’t surprise you that the first thing that came to my mind was “you can be blaze about some things, chomey, but not about giraffes!”

And it’s so true.  The animals of the savannah: giraffes, elephants, lions, impalas, wildebeests, buffalo, elands, hippopotamuses, crocodiles and warthogs, to name a few are hardly animals that I see every day, here in Tanzania or at home in North America.  On top of that, lets not forget what a privilege it is to observe them interact with each other on endless golden planes, and not in the confines of the local zoo.

I revamped my attitude just in time for one of the highlights of our trip.  Our guides stopped to assist another vehicle that had busted its tire.  Afterwards, as that car moved down the road ahead of us, its driver pointed out the window to a number of trees at the side of the road.  Arriving at the trees, a bloodied carcass was visible in the clearing.  Knowing that whatever killed that animal was likely to be in the vicinity a hushed silence fell upon us.  Our driver murmured, “I’m not supposed to do this” and proceeded to drive off the road towards the trees.  Lying prone in the scrub were three lionesses, panting heavily under the stress of the giant meal they had just consumed.  They didn’t even turn to look at us frantically recording them and then afterwards, staring at them in awe. 

In the gloaming as we traveled back to our hotel along the main road that cuts through the park our driver stopped one last time.  In the bushes set back from the road, a family of elephants was dining on the surrounding trees.  Too dark to photograph, I sat quietly, respectful of their majesty and eagerly anticipating the promise of another day in the park.