Night-drive through the Serengeti
Tanzania 1984
We had undertaken the long drive to Mwanza to collect spare parts for the park’s fleet of jeeps and landrovers. The transaction had been supervised by a Swiss woman who was living on an island in Lake Victoria. We spent the night in a swish hotel where A paid for a room for me after his jokey suggestion to share a bed earnt him a withering look, and early the next morning departed for the shores of the great lake. The short boatride to the island felt like being at sea. A fresh wind rippled the surface of the water.
The island was a little paradise, and almost completely self-sufficient. We were fed on the liver of a freshly slaughtered pig, vegetables from the large garden and buttermilk and cream from the island’s own dairy. The enegetic landlady told me about her dilemma. She had nine children, but all had left her to seek their fortunes and she had no heir for her island. She offered me a position as her estate manager. I do not think she was joking.
“Say yes,” A hissed: “She’ll groom you to take over in her old age, then leave it all to you when she dies!”
Maybe… I was briefly tempted but in truth I was a little scared of the formidable woman and I felt too young to be confined to one place, even an island as idyllic as this. It would feel like a golden cage before long. Plus I make a lousy manager.
Once back in town, I puzzled how A had thought he could fit all the spare parts into his landrover. We ended up precariously securing 12 spare tyres onto the roof with a length of chain. Because this left us open to thieves, we decided to return to Serona at once even though it meant driving through the night.
Night-drives through the Serengeti are not normally permitted, but an exception was made for an official of the Zoological Society on business.
Everything was completely different from daytime. During the night, and in the hours around dawn and dusk, the park comes to live. More than ever, the animals seemed close enough to touch. Their shining eyes reflected our lights in white, yellow or red. (I wondered whether the poor critters were blinded and would fall victim to predators as a result). A large cat shot across the track like a creature of the shadows. Dic-dics and spring-hares ran ahead of the beams before deflecting into the bush. Guinea fowls crouched into the grass right next to the track, only to be flushed up at the last moment, nearly colliding with the car.
“Do you want to drive a bit?” A asked. I protested that I had never driven anything other than a bicycle and occassionally a tractor but A was unfazed, explained the controls on the dashboard and settled in the passenger seat while I was working out which of the pedals served as the brake, the clutch or the accelerator. I nearly got this wrong as a large shadow suddenly loomed ahead. The car made a little leap as I jumped from the accelerator onto the brake, but A had already spun the wheel around. We had nearly collided with a buffalo. A coaxed me to put the car into reverse then told me to accelerate sharply. Before the buffalo had regained its composure, we had switched seats and I didn’t ask to drive again.
The rest of the drive passed amazingly smoothly. When we approached Seronera it wasn’t even that late. We surprised three lionesses streaking through the grass. We drove a little closer and stopped. The big cats lay down unconcerned in the lights of the jeep and groomed for a while, then stood up and walked down the track while we slowly drove behind them, picking up speed again as soon as they veered into the bush.
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Denni