Fall came while I was away. In two short weeks the kaleidoscope of Mid-Atlantic colors turned from crisp summer greens to hues of gold and crimson. It was birthday and football season, and my jackets were stuffed away in the front closet, far out of reach when I stepped off the plane from sunny, dusty Tanzania. I was a week in Zanzibar’s exotic sun but risked burns only from too much fluorescent lighting – yes, more conference rooms in glamorous places. Such hard work that I do, eh? It was perhaps one of the most difficult weeks of my professional life, though, and there were definitely times I thought I was going to be voted off the island. Sparing you the details I could rehash to infinity, I was praised and passed over, bullied and adored all in five days or less, leaving me drained and disheartened as I headed off for my first safari back on the mainland.
Joined by two friends/colleagues who’d survived the grueling week as well, we took a two-hour flight to Arusha in northern Tanzania and were met by our driver/guide Kappia, a dry-witted local man in his late 50s, who was trained as a vet and drove perhaps the most ghetto Landcruiser in the entire country. I was still distracted by the recent drama, though, and hopped into our “rugged” ride, and pulled out my computer. I typed as we drove, the entire bumpy journey to our first park, just trying to decompress, and was calmed by the familiar rhythm of the keys and the draining of my angst like an IV line into my computer. I breathed deeply, finally, just as we pulled into our first park.
Honestly, I had no idea what to expect because I’d done basically no research, which was unusual for me, but these particular parks came highly recommended. All I knew is that in all my African travels I’d never taken a safari and there was/is real potential that this would be my last trip, particularly with someone else covering the airfare. We were hitting three parks in three days for a fairly reasonable price then were homeward bound.
Lake Maynara National Park was our first stop, and our guide carefully maneuvered down the winding dirt road, shrouded by low-hanging leafy branches. Within minutes, we met a troupe of baboons and saw little antelope and looming giraffes munching away on the foliage. It was incredible, and I’d lugged every piece of camera equipment I owned across three continents just to immortalize these unbelievable encounters.
After about an hour of gawking and clicking and excited squealing (from us), I quickly changed my lenses because the animals were so close I didn’t even need my zoom, but when I went to shoot again, my camera went haywire. It was dead. Even a late night, very long distance call later to emergency Canon tech support (aka Gene Dailey) could not revive my once-trusty sidekick. I was disappointed, but somehow not upset. I figured it must be God’s way of telling me I needed to shoot video. So, that’s what I did = for the next two days I pretended I worked for the Discovery channel, except for a few shots here and there on my pocket camera. (The award-winning quality of any actual products from these hours of raw footage has yet to be determined. If I can ever come up with a story line, and figure out how to use the software, I promise to post something on You Tube.)
Our seasoned driver and guide began the next day by proudly showing us the frayed rope he’d rigged to hold the pop-up roof of our Landcruiser in place after it had partially collapsed the day before. With our ghetto ride quickly becoming a possibly unsafe ride (with an imminent need for helmets), we descended into the massive Ngorongoro Crater enveloped by a chilly, sheer fog. This geographical anomaly is the world's largest volcanic caldera (an imploded volcano) and spans more than 100 sq. miles. We had only a day to take in the enormously diverse wildlife that call the crater home, and our morning soon exploded into a zoological parade – we saw four of Africa’s “big five” animals before lunch – hippos, elephants, lions, rhinos, along warthogs, hyenas, jackals, servals (a cheetah’s little cousin), strutting ostrich, superb starlings, guinea pheasants, secretary birds, baboons, waterbucks, reedbucks, and much more that I can’t remember! We were rarely out of sight of the incredible backdrop of the crater walls rising in distance.
The next morning we rose and traveled about two hours south to Tarangire National Park, home to thousands of the Dr. Seuss-esque baobab trees and huge herds of elephants. There was little greenery on the crackly-dry, wind-swept plains of the park, yet the landscape at times seemed otherworldly, with panoramic views mirroring Lion King animation. We stopped at several elevated overlooks situated above drying riverbeds and watched amid long silences as hundreds of animals congregated below, drinking and splashing, reacting to one another’s movements with the domino-like sensitivity. By late afternoon, we had about given up on the fifth animal in our search for the “big five” – the leopard, when our driver received a tip that one was hiding in rocky embankment nearby. So we parked and waited. And waited. And waited for the infamously shy leopard to emerge. When suddenly, what looked like a large, spotted housecat popped out of the rocks and swiftly, yet very visibly, made its way to a thicket of dried brush nearby. It was a fantastic finale to our short, yet wildlife-packed, safari excursion.
The lone African legend we didn’t spot was the lightning-fast cheetah, which is apparently a rare sight even among locals. But that didn’t stop us from looking until daylight began to fade that final day. As darkness fell, we zipped across unmarked dirt roads to our accommodations for the night – Whistling Thorn tented camp, a hidden gem miles from the main road, which was owned and operated by local villagers. The staff consisted of traditionally-dressed Maasai warriors, one guy in a chef’s hat and coat, and another in blue jeans and a t-shirt that punctuated his broken English with an unfortunate stutter. Our heavy-duty tents were staked over large concrete slabs that even had a toilet (and hopefully a septic tank somewhere below) and a shower that trickled for about a minute, but only if the bucket suspended above was filled by the Maasai guys. Amazingly, my Blackberry worked there in the middle of Tanzanian nowhere and that night I got a message from my Dad reminding me to be careful and stay alert of my surroundings. I giggled thinking if he only knew there were real live warriors with spears standing guard outside my tent.
We left the next morning, beginning the long journey home from our dusty safari trails, preceded by a torturous week in luxury. It had a been a tumultuous trip of highs and lows, but those final few days of great company and conversation, and waiting quietly and watching Nature’s unencumbered motions, were among the catalysts which sent me home steadied and resolute. I spent time combing through the real-life stories of people grappling with one of my own resounding questions in Po Bronson’s What Should I Do With My Life? Their experiences helped unshackle my thoughts from coping with the status quo, and I was flooded with ideas for my new business, my blog and writings, a podcast, and a career fueled by creativity and connection, rather than convention and dollar signs. I scrawled frantic notes to myself in the margins of pages, knowing I would likely slip back into the straight-jacket of routine and grip of pride when I returned to familiar surroundings.
I arrived home just before my birthday, my annual time for a cathartic self-check on where I am in relation to my dreams, and if where I’m headed will get me there. Despite the rigors of the past weeks and months, I did find myself waffling again, predictably – comfort and security vs. leaps of faith and big dreams. But between the solidarity of dear friends toasting my special day, and an array of Divine Signposts pointing me (still) toward new horizons, I have regained my footing and can see not just one, but many pathways ahead...
“When a lot of things go wrong at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to be born – and this something needs us to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible.“
-Anne Lamott in Traveling Mercies
Before my camera died, in Zanzibar and Lake Mayanara...
Zanzibar's famous Dhow boats at sunset.
The Red Colobus Monkey, found only in Zanzibar.
After my camera died, from my little camera and Jackie, my fellow traveler...
Me, Jackie and Kathleen at the gate to the Crater
The winding road down into the Crater
The hippo pool with the Crater walls in the distance.
A baobab tree.
"Hey, can't a hyena take a mud bath in private?!"
With our Maasai guys at the tent camp.
