After my Kili climb, I retreated to the Arusha Mountain Lodge.  The flowers were nice, but unless you enjoy sitting around reading – there isn’t much to occupy your time.  Other guests felt the same, so there were quite a few of us under the big shade tree kicking back each day.  It was under this tree where I met the person with perhaps the world’s worst name.  A very dignified-looking local woman introduced herself to me.   “I am Diarrhea”, she said, twirling her rrr’s as she said enunciated her name.  Trying to hide my look of object horror at her unfortunate moniker, I countered “How do you do, my name is Valerie”.

My plan was to safari in Arusha NP for two days, Ngorogo Crater for two days, and then the Serengeti for the remainder of the time.  For the first two days in Arusha NP, I had my own private guide.  My guide was well-educated, so I asked every question about every animal I could possibly dream up.  I became highly educated (in a short amount of time) about the animals, plants, geography, and even Tanzanian politics.  Our safari time went from early morning to dusk each day.  Arusha NP has monkeys and flamingos that are not seen in the other safari areas; the park was well worth visiting.

I could not afford a private safari for the rest of the itinerary, so I had booked to join a tour group.  The “group” turned out to be two old women from Panama.  These woman could not have been more opposite me.  Their first language was Spanish.  Both women were overweight and out of shape to the point they had difficulty getting in and out of the jeep.  Neither woman appeared to be well educated.  I wondered how they could afford the safari.  We had virtually nothing to talk about, so most of the time the women spoke in Spanish to each other.

Whenever we would spot one of rarer animals, one of the women would always scream and yell.  LOOK, A LEOPARD!!! She’d squeal, and the frightened animal would either turn away or outright run.  For some reason, she just couldn’t contain her loudness.  Finally after another exasperating scream, I couldn’t take it anymore.  I shouted back in my East-coast “WILL YOU SHUT THE F#CK UP FOR ONCE”.  I was ready to let Darwin take over and feed this stupid idiot to the lions.

Our safari driver was an older gentleman with failing eyesight.  I’ve never spotted a lion in my life, but the first day I was shouting “STOP! A LION!”.  Sure enough, there was a lion lying in the grass.  I had to get the driver to back up the jeep to see the lion he just drove past.  It was about 50/50 me spotting animals or the driver spotting them –but he had binoculars.  OK, he was driving so he had to keep an eye on the road so to speak….but this was the guy’s occupation!  I don’t know it is strictly cultural, or the driver was angry that I was spotting so many animals—but the guy was a chauvinist pig.  Over the week, he made numerous comments about women belonging in the kitchen and other demeaning things.  The Panamanians just laughed.  I was under the impression I really got stuck with the low budget safari.

Our first excursion was to Ngorogo Crater.  If you want to see wild rhino before they become extinct, Ngorogo Crater is the place to go.  Apparently the “crater” must keep them somewhat protected by poachers.  I was told there was a park ranger assigned to EACH rhino.  At the time, I believe there were eight living rhino.  We were able to see two rhino, but only at a distance. 

A very frightening thing happened on the first day at Ngorogo Crater.  We had packed a box lunch in the jeep, and stopped in an area which had a large tree for shade.  I was eating a sandwich, when all of a sudden I saw a flash and HUGE claws rushing toward my face.  I screamed as a large raptor had swooped down and ripped the sandwich out of my hands as I was biting into it.  The wings of the raptor were wide; perhaps it was some type of eagle or something.  The bird came out of nowhere.  It had not been nesting in the tree; the bird came torpedoing down from some higher altitude.

The Panamanians were screaming with laughter.  They acted like my near-slashing event was a comedy routine.  Deep facial wounds, very funny.  But then, on cue……..a bird came hurdling down out of nowhere and swooped up a different sandwich (not in someone’s hands at the moment).  The bird had been tucked into a dive and was amazingly fast and silent, until the moment it seized the bread.  The Panamanians then realized this was serious stuff, and began to panic.  The woman waddled toward the safety of the jeep.  My sandwich was gone; no lunch for Valerie.  I never found out what kind of bird attacked me.  I’m just grateful those talons didn’t take out an eyeball.

In 2003, I had just begun to use a digital camera.  My camera was a hand-me-down from someone else; it wasn’t very good.  However, I didn’t want to invest in an expensive camera since I was doing the Kili climb beforehand.  I needed a light, small camera for the ascent.  I didn’t have any guarantee of a secure place to store a nice camera while I made the climb.  I knew my safari photos would turn out lame, but I didn’t want to risk an expensive camera loss.  You’ll discover when you view the safari photos that the resolution and colors are not good quality.

At least I had some photos of the safari.  The fattest of the Panamanian women had also brought a new digital camera.  I thought it was quite odd that she was always looking through the view finder rather than the digital display when she was taking photos.  One afternoon, she thrusts the camera in my hand and demanded “take a look at this.  I don’t think it’s working”.  I had to really conceal my grin when I began to inspect the camera.  The lard ass had never attempted to learn any functionality of the camera whatsoever.  All she knew how to do was turn the camera on and press the shutter button.  She hadn’t replaced the memory card which existed when she bought the camera.  This 14 K chip only held seven photos.  The memory chip probably filled up during the first 10 minutes she was on safari a week ago.  It was hard to conceal my grin as I handed the camera back to her.  “I don’t know how to use it without the instruction manual”, I insisted.  “Oh, I have the booklet which came with it; I just haven’t had time to read it” she replied. 

I read eleven books front to back during my Africa trip.

Safaris work like this:  You get up early and go look for animals at sunrise.  By noon, the sun is blaring overhead so strongly that shade is mandatory.  The animals think likewise.  Most all the animals will bed down during the heat of the day.  There is no point driving around until the temperatures cool off in the evening.  So the driver brings you back to the lodge mid-day and picks you back up in the evening.  We spent a few hours spotting wildlife each evening and always arrived back to the lodge in the dark.

The “lodge” was not an interesting place.  There wasn’t any type of recreation, television, or phone.  You were just stuck there, for a large portion of daylight hours.  Taking a walk wasn’t an option; a lion could be stalking nearby.  Besides, the heat was overwhelming.  There was a small pool, but the dank water and the top level of swimming insects scared all the tourists away.  Nobody even sat beside the pool while I was there.

There was no exercise equipment, either.  Without a snack bar or gaming room, I spent the days in my room.  There was absolutely nothing to do except nap and read books. I was completely bored out of my mind.  Dinner was served at 7 PM and not a minute before.  It was mandated that you sit at your assigned table.  Of course, I was assigned to the table with the two Panamanians. The only way I survived was by drinking heavily with each evening meal.  Spending all my mealtime with these ditsy women was driving me nuts.

So, my friends were right after all.  By the third day, I'd seen every animal possible.  Although some (like the rhino) were in the distance, many species were easily seen up close.  The common lingo for tourists is “the big five”:  Lion, leopard, elephant, rhino, and buffalo.  Luckily, I sighted the big five early on.  The safari drivers talk on two-way radios.  When one driver spots something more rare (like a leopard), they radio the position to the other drivers.  So then the drivers go tearing like mad on the 4x4 paths to race over before the animal gets away.  The drivers have little respect for the animals.  They’ll pull up within feet of a lion and practically back over a cheetah.  As someone who has watched a fair share of nature documentaries, I was appalled at the harassment the animals face at these National Parks.  And to top it off, we even saw poachers one day!

When driving from Ngorogo to the Serengeti, there are lots of opportunist local tribe people that strive for a cut of the tourist dollars.  We drove past several clusters of Maasai warriors in full make up (and loin cloths + spears) standing beside the road.  When we would drive near, they would jump up and down with great effort.  The Maasai were attempting to get tourists to stop and take photos – and pay money to do so.  I actually thought it might be a good thing to put a few shillings into the local’s pockets.  However, my driver didn’t want to stop.  I gathered he was afraid of our jeep being surrounded by tribesman and being robbed, although he never came out and admitted it.

Other incidents of note during my safari time in Africa:

I yelled at the safari driver three times to stop backing up the jeep lest we scare a cheetah…..then before we back up over the poor thing.  Of course, the cheetah bolted and ran away right before the back tire would have run over its tail.

I stayed in one hotel where the only television channel was the Al Jazeera Network.

I had two men approach me at an outdoor café and ask “Are you American”?  When I sheepishly replied “yes”, they yelled loudly “WE HATE YOUR GOVERNMENT!”

I asked a hotel concierge where I could view a local market.  He told me it was not safe for me to go there by myself, and could hook me up with a local guide + vehicle for little cash.  When the guide arrived, he took me directly to the Safeway!!!  Not what I had in mind, but it was interesting perusing the meat department for goat meat.  Afterwards, I did end up in a local market, but it was a solemn affair.  The stark poverty and lack of adequate healthcare was shocking.  As was the stench from market items that apparently had not sold previously, and had been tossed aside as rotting garbage.  The things you see about poverty on TV and in print are disturbing.   But actually witnessing it, and smelling the stench of object poverty was horrifying.  As a result of this experience, I have a callous attitude toward people’s petty complaints and everyday worries.  People get upset over stupid shit that doesn’t matter.  I want to say, “If you think (your situation is bad), how would you like to be an HIV positive orphan in Africa picking through rotting garbage trying to find something to eat?”

When driving, I witnessed a public bus pull to the side of the road up ahead.  I watched in horror as a group of angry people drug a man from the bus and began beating him. The man was on the ground.  A mob surrounded the man and was hitting and kicking him.   My driver kept going, saying “he probably stole something”.

I ended up with thousands of extra Tanzanian shillings.  The airport currency exchange was closed when I was leaving the country, and so far I have not found any bank or currency exchange which will accept the Tanzanian money.