All day I had Bruce Cockburn’s Wondering Where the Lions Are running through my head. As I stepped out of the Land Cruiser, I wanted to not wonder and know that there were no lions about. Our ranger guide Ali deftly slung the rifle over his shoulder, turned to us and said “we walk single file, be quiet, anything can happen, do not run.” As we stepped from the road onto the savannah for the first time, all senses turned on. Pay attention to everything I thought – no surprises. 

Our group of three headed out, two minutes in I turned to look back at the road and already it had been swallowed by the horizon. Only way is forward. My mind was racing, what is hiding in the grass? What might we encounter? Were their snakes this time of year? 

I was determined to be in the present – focus only on what I was hearing, seeing, smelling, feeling.  

My first memory is from the heat of the sun and the noise of the flies. The flies, buzzing incessantly. Following the ranger, I see his back is covered and I imagine that mine is too, and the sun is baking my skin through my shirt. Thinking when did I last apply sunscreen… Mercifully, Ali must have sensed our discomfort, and offered us some bug spray – after that the flies dwindled to about 20 hangers-on.  

Ali motioned for us to stop and gestured in the distance – zebras. They were 50 metres away and already they were tuned into our presence – perhaps the smell of adrenaline, fear and bug spray had alerted them to the invasive species of man – this is their land, not ours.

The more we walked the more I became aware of the noise of our walking. Each step a painful reminder that we do not belong. We cannot walk gracefully as those with four legs manage to do. Each of our steps causing disruption and disturbance.  

As we continued on I began to relax, it’s like a stroll in the park I thought. There’s grass, trees, a few animals about, no problem. But as the grass became longer I became aware of the increasing difficulty to see what may be hiding in it. I became aware of Ali’s movements as we approached a raised mound of earth – the rifle shifted from over the shoulder to a two-handed hold – ready to use it I thought. Our movement slowed, I held my breath, creeping slowly forward so as to not startle. 

Nothing there – this time.  

About 45 minutes in my gaze was solidly fixed on the horizon – should I not be able to see the road? The realization that you are at the mercy of nature – and you are relying on the skill and well-being of the ranger. One guy, with a rifle – against how many creatures with fangs and claws, and horns… without Ali we would be lost.

I can’t see the road, I have zero survival skills for the African savannah, and I have half a bottle of water left… I turn to look at Jason who has been walking behind me the whole time, and I smile. We are here together. Despite the fear, and the adrenaline, and the excitement, we take a moment to pause in a little clearing of grass. Look around – take it in – this is life at its best.  

We move on. A grouse flies out of the long grass as we all turn to look. The adrenaline is surging and all I can hear is my heart beating in my ears. The tension is broken – and Jason and I laugh nervously. We pause to look at wildebeests in the distance.  A few steps further and a hyena that had been enjoying an afternoon siesta bolts through the grass. Ali signals for us to take a wide berth of the burrow, in case there is another one inside. My fear subsides again as we pass the burrow and nothing happens.  

As we move forward the landscape changes, the tall yellow grass of the savannah gives way to scrub and rocks. We come across a bleached turtle shell – the scales of the shell sloughed off and drying in the sun. Ahead the sun’s glare begins to reflect and I think I see road. I don’t rejoice yet, it might be an illusion and I need to be sure.   

In a few more moments I can see that the road is there – it’s going to be okay – we’ve made it through. As I step onto the road part of me wants to pray. To say thanks for today – we were not eaten by a lion. As the land cruiser approaches we thank Ali for guiding us through. We have lived a moment to its fullest.  

100 metres up the road there are other land cruisers stopped, looking – what do they see I ask? “They are watching the lions.” 

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