Safari

We have a 5.30 am start for our safari trip, after a restless and sticky night.  The heat is intense and we spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to find a cool place to lie, whilst listening to the noises outside: crickets and frogs; unidentifiable night birds; and wonderfully, the sound of hippos splashing in the nearby water.

A hasty shower and breakfast and we pile into the bus with Joseph at the wheel. A ferry takes us across the Nile to the part of the National Park where we are most likely to catch sight of wild animals.  Immediately, we are greeted by baboons: dozens of them, picking their way lazily along the road, nonchalant at our approach, not in the slightest bit put out by us or the bus. Claire gets a great phot of one fellah with his tackle fully on display and clearly ready for action, and there begins a hilarious photo caption competition, which has yet to be concluded!

We see several different species that resemble deer: Jackson Harte Beest; Ugandan Cob; water Buck…

They are beautiful and graceful, their huge dark eyes catching ours before bounding away. There is an incredible array of birds too: owls, vultures (just like the ones from Jungle Book: very scary); Egyptian geese (which look nothing like geese); shoebill cranes; guinea fowl, so funny running around madly on their tiny little legs like a shrunken version of the Road Runner.

Joseph has opened up the roof of the bus so we can stand and look around us. We spot several herds of wild buffalo; numerous breeds of giraffes (who knew?): so many water hogs that we get bored with them: yesterday’s news!  And eventually we come across a herd of elephants and separately, a lion and lioness.

Inevitably though, it is the dynamics within the bus rather than the external factors that are the prime source of entertainment. Miriam and I, quickly bored, read smutty articles in the local rag which Joseph bought. Claire gives way to hunger and gets stuck into a protein bar with impressive focus and attention to detail.  But Ciaran and Gwen prove unquenchable, determined and committed in their determination to find and identify every animal in the area. They soon have the standing room to themselves as the rest of us move to the back seat to snooze, eat, dream of a cool beer, or correct the appalling grammar in the newspaper. They instinctively find an efficient routine with Eagle Eyed Doyle scanning the west, and Ciaran ‘The Facts’ Kinsella taking the east.  On the very rare occasion that Ciaran doesn’t know the name of an animal, or isn’t able to answer our question (we feel an obligation to feign some level of interest) Joseph’s expertise is called upon.  He is never found wanting!

We are almost six hours in the mini bus by the time we get back to the ferry; we are hot, sticky, bursting for the loo and seriously in need of caffeine.  Feeling extremely self righteous, we settle at the table and order lunch, bottles of water and the odd glass of wine.   The photos are perused and commented on, and plans are considered for the afternoon.  As we chat, I observe one of the bar staff hanging a hammock between two tress beside the waters edge.  I know with absolute certainty what the afternoon holds for me: that hammock has my name on it!