Lately, my blogs have taken on a bit of a preachy tone, as I attest the value and virtues of travel. Well, folks, sorry, but this entry shall be no different. I’m on a roll, here, with these travel lessons, which are, if nothing else, making me more self-aware and appreciative of all that travel has done for me.
Nowhere has my patience been tested so much as in Africa – and it all comes down to the pace at which Africans do things. Africans have a way of moving about daily tasks so.incredibly.slowly that you sometimes wonder if they are doing it to insult or annoy you. From the security guard coming to open the gate and sign you in to the gas teller pumping your gas and bringing you your change, Africans perform tasks with a pace which seems to say, “What’s the rush? We’ve got all day!” In Southern Africa, they even have a few English expressions which, to me, say it all about the African relationship with time – “now now” means “at some imprecise time in the near future”, and “just now” means “in a little bit”. The word “now” has absolutely no use or significance here. Here in Africa, I have thus had a LOT of opportunities to practice channeling my inner Zen!
What I hadn’t realized was that, somewhere along the line, in these last 18 months – be it in Zimbabwe, South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, or Mozambique – I must have mastered the art of patience. For the proof is in the pudding, as they say, and I have been eating pudding for the last week and a half. Bruno and I have been on safari in various National Parks and Reserves (Hluhluwe-Imfoloze Reserve, uMhuze, and Royal Hlane National Park in Swaziland) for the last 10 days. And during that time, I have realized that patience is the single most important quality required for a successful safari experience. (Besides, of course, a bit of dumb luck!)
For many travelers to Africa, going on safari and spotting the Big Five is at the top of their bucket list. What these travelers might not have realized when they booked their safaris online is that spotting animals is no guarantee. Time and again, I have watched as safari jeeps, jam-packed with eager, camera-touting tourists, departing for a game drive, and returning with forlorn, disappointed, and bored clients. Once I even saw a group of Indian men asleep, I kid you not! It was sad to hear the stories of travelers who had finished their few days in a National Park without seeing a white rhino or a lion, or who were left unmoved by their sightings of said animals napping, standing by a waterhole, or hiding behind a tree. It was even sadder to see so, so many tourists drive up to an animal sighting, click a picture (for the bragging rights back home), and drive off immediately, not even stopping to appreciate the majesty of Nature and all its beings.Thankfully, I am traveling with an experienced safari guide, and have learnt a few tips to having a successful and meaningful safari experience. And folks, it all boils down to patience.3)Wait patiently. For more than a few minutes (which is the average time I saw most people wait). Bring a book. Or just look and listen. Take it all in. Stare off into the distance and dream a bit. You are in Africa, after all, and you are on holiday, so you [finally] have time to do nothing and not feel guilty about it.
5)Don’t have unrealistic expectations. Your odds of seeing, for example, a cheetah family are a lot less than your odds of seeing zebras. Don’t be discouraged if you don’t see everything you want to see on day one. Just keep following this guide, and practicing patience, and you will [hopefully] be rewarded.With these guidelines in mind, Bruno and I safaried our little hearts out. We’d scope out the park a bit, looking for the most frequented regions, and finding nice platforms or hides (covered wooden huts with a long, eye-level window) looking out onto waterholes or open fields. Then we’d stay at these spots. For an hour, or two, or even half a day. We’d patiently watch through our binoculars, or read a book with half an eye looking outward. Sometimes, our patience was not rewarded. But often it was. Like the time eight giraffes came out of nowhere into the road and started slowly surrounding our vehicle, all of their faces pointed curiously at us. Or the time we spotted two baby hyenas in the bushes, and watched long enough for them to creep out of their hiding spot and cross the road, back and forth, back and forth. Without patience, we would have seen the two white rhinos off in the distance but we wouldn’t have turned off the engine and waited, on the off-chance they’d approach. They did, walking right behind our vehicle, facing us from the middle of the road. Without patience, we would never have sat at the waterhole in uMkuze for 4 hours that day, and we would never have seen the spectacle of animals that graced us with their presence – from impala, wildebeest, and nyala, to zebras, warthogs, giraffes, and rhinos. Without patience, we wouldn’t have seen the rhino napping in the mud, or the impala enjoying a good cleaning from those parasite-eating birds, nor would we have watched the giraffe, with a mix of grace and awkwardness, lean down to drink from the water far below.And without patience, we certainly would not have gotten to see one of the most amazing sights of all – a leopard drinking at the water hole! These creatures are so difficult to see – they are elusive, solitary, mostly active at night, and incredibly wary of humans. In all the years Bruno has spent in National Parks, he has only ever spotted two leopards, and one of those sightings was only of its behind disappearing into the bush. Yet, here we were, not 10 meters from this gorgeous spotted male, watching him as he gracefully leaned over the mud to drink, his long, slender tail billowing behind him. Periodically, he’d look our way, instinctively sensing our presence (we were in a “hide”) and then once more return to drinking, his rotund belly clearly giving away a recent meal. Thirst quenched, this king of uMkuze now contently sat in the mud with befitting regal posture. I watched, so transfixed that the entire world melted away, yet with such a heightened awareness that I could hear every sound around me, including the occasional low leopard growl or moan. When the leopard finally slipped off a few minutes later, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t look anywhere but where he had been.
And I knew, in that instant, that I had finally learned the art of patience. And as my reward, the God of Travel had given me the precious gift of this private moment with a leopard. This one is a travel lesson well-learned…
