Into the Serengeti
Tanzania 1984
It seemed to grow even colder. I began to wish that I had packed a whoolen sweater or a thick coat. The hills were shrouded in a thick mist and the long grass was clammy and wet.
I went to the lodge for breakfast to find that my host from last night was serving. Very embarrassing. More importantly, staff were strictly forbidden from befriending guests, so I had to act nonchalantly. He winked and I smiled.
I felt somewhat cheap when I left my tip, though it was a good one by my tight-fisted standards.
I caught a lift in the direction of the Serengeti without much difficulty. The journey went back down into the hot, dry savannah. On the yellow grass we saw herds of zebras and gazelles. When we passed the pyramid-shaped stone which marked the border to the Serengeti a fantastic sight opened to us: the landscappe was dotted with dark spots and each of these was a gazelle, a wildebeast or an antelope. What we took for small trees in the distance turned out to be a group of ostriches who took flight on long pink legs, their feathers fluttering with the rythm of their gait. They were as fast as the lorry. Close to the track hyenas and the odd jackal rested in the heat of the day.
We entered the park and again I was asked to pay a reasonable fee. On the way to the village which formed the administrative centre of the park we saw a huge herd of wildebeast — obviously trailers on the annual migration across the plains.
The Chief of Tourism was surprised when I told him that I intended to sleep in the village youth hostel; in fact he was less than pleased.
“What seems to be the problem?” I asked.
“We don’t have facilities for visitors at the moment,” he said: “The water pipe to the village is broken so there is no water…”
“I’m sure there will be enough water to brush my teeth with.” I said: “Besides, the people living in the village have to put up with it as well. If they can, I can. I’m used to it from the desert.”
“I would prefer it if you stayed at the lodge. For 300 sh…”
“Good God man, I can’t afford to splash out!”
Although I must say I was tempted. Clean sheets, soft beds, hot showers, lavish meals all for less than 5$ — provided nobody asked where I got the money from. However, it was a long way to Capetown.
“Very well,” the poor man said and issued me with a permit to stay at the hostel: “It’s 50 shilling a night.”
My attempts to haggle down the price because of the lack of facilities fell on deaf ears. That was the official rate and it was within my budget, so I didn’t mind too much.
There was no more food available in the village diner but the people running the hostel invited me to dinner: beans with brown Ugali that was grinding between my teeth and didn’t taste of much, but I was grateful for the kind welcome.
I was told about a German mechanic who worked in nearby Sarrat and a park ranger gave me a lift to his house late the following morning. When I knocked on the guy’s door it was already 10:45 but we had roused Herr A from his sleep. For the next half hour I was somewhat embarrassed but when he finally came fully awake, after a few cups of strong coffee, A turned out to be a nice guy. He was working for the Frankfurt Zoologische Gesellschaft but as a mechanic he did not know much about the wildlife — or zoologists for that matter. When he was introduced to the Society’s director, a famous wildlife presenter who at the time had about the same standing as David Attenborough in the UK, he did not have the slightest clue who the guy interviewing him was.
In the afternoon, A took me on safari. With the sun high in the sky we did not see many animals but in a river which had water year-round we counted 20 hippos, only their eyes and ears protuding from the muddy water. We found a family of lions at play in the shade of a baobab tree and came acoss the odd herd of gazelles, buffalo or giraffe. But mostly, the shimmering plain was deserted.
“Where are the big herds at this time of year?” I asked, hoping that some zoological knowledge might have rubbed off on A. But then, even the information I had gleaned from the rangers so far had been contradictory. Some said that the migration was proceeding in the direction of the Massai Mara Reserve in Kenya. Others said the animals were in the south or south-east of the park. A few even claimed there was no migration at all this year, the animals remaining dispersed in small herds. However, most pointed to the western corridor on the way to Lake Victoria, so I took that as the inofficial concensus.
Somehow, I had to get there.
Tags: Cairo to Capetown, Tag Index
Denni