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forty-two f

Safari

I t wasn’t long before we left Mombasa Beach Hotel and became homeowners. I knew Ben and one of his shell companies were the real homeowners, but I didn’t care. I had been living in chaos for so long, any chance of stability was a blessing.

“Ben’s sendin’ me to Hong Kong and Thailand,” Mike announced one morning. “I’m meetin’ with Vinnie Lasseter. Gonna bring him a sample of our crop.”

“Who’ll oversee the farms?” I asked. And what about carrying drugs on the plane?

“Maurice and Carl’ll take care of stuff. The plants are already up to my waist. I’ll be back in a coupla weeks,” Mike said.

I’d had a love/hate relationship with Mike from the beginning. Since we’d been in Kenya, the scale had tipped toward hate. Time apart was exactly what I needed.

“You got your girlfriends,” Mike said. “Don’t go cheatin’ on me while I’m gone.”

“With the girls? You know I’m not like that.”

Tina, Edie, and I relaxed by our pool after a breakfast of spiced chai, fruit, and maandazis , spiced fried dough, all prepared by Mary, our cook.

“I don’t know how you put up with Mike,” Tina said. “He’s the biggest bullshit artist I’ve ever met.”

“Thank goodness Carl’s not like him,” Edie replied.

“Have you been on a sight-seeing safari yet?” Tina asked.

“I want to. Just never got around to it,” I said.

“Let’s do it,” Tina said. “I bet Waititu could set us up.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Mike to get back?” I asked.

“He wouldn’t wait for you,” Tina said.

A week later, Waititu arranged a three-day trip for us to Tsavo East National Park, several hours inland from our home.

“You will see a different side of Africa,” Waititu told us. “The Tsavo River flows through the park, but you will also see desert. It is the most beautiful place I know—except for the ocean.”

“Will you join us on safari?” I asked.

“No. It is for tourists. I will stay with my cousins in Wundanyi, a town close by,” Waititu said. “Today we drive to the park, tomorrow is your safari, and the following day we drive home.”

“Will we be safe without him?” Tina whispered.

I shrugged. “I sure hope so.”

Our accommodations were simple but not as primitive as I had anticipated. Tents rested on raised wooden platforms behind stockade fencing. Each came furnished with two single beds with mosquito netting, a small table, two wooden chairs, and a dresser. A ceiling fan with a dim bulb provided minimal air circulation and lighting. Restrooms were communal.

“How cool is this!” Tina exclaimed. “Never thought I’d go on an African safari.”

“I’m glad Mike’s not here,” I said. Mike would’ve demanded a suite with the amenities of the Dorchester in London.

Several other guests joined us for dinner in the large public tent. The food was simple: grilled meat, roasted sweet potatoes, collard greens cooked in oil, bottled beer, and soda. Our hosts encouraged us to make it an early night as we’d be leaving first thing the next morning.

Sunrise was magnificent. Fuchsia, baby pink, and ruby rays lit the sky. The morning dew caressed my skin. What more could I ask from life?

Breakfast was another simple meal: a variety of fruit, coffee, chai, samosas, sweet potatoes, and uji , a fermented porridge made from millet.

“You will have many opportunities for photography,” our guide explained. “We will drive along dirt roads, but our vehicle has special shock absorbers to make the ride more comfortable.”

The five of us, along with an older British couple, piled into one safari vehicle. I thought briefly of Mike but forgot him when I saw my first herd of red elephants.

“This is what I expected Africa to be like,” Edie said. “Reminds me of National Geographic magazines when I was a kid.”

Periodically, we’d stop for pictures of cape buffalo, cheetah, giraffe, and antelopes.

“You will see a pride of lions to your right,” our driver said. “They are nicknamed ‘man-eaters of Tsavo.’ But don’t be afraid. They have already eaten breakfast.”

Nervous laughter erupted from the back of the vehicle.

“I can’t believe all the birds,” I said.

“We have more than six hundred species of birds in the park,” our driver explained.

We stopped for lunch at a lodge with spectacular views of the distant mountains. An occasional acacia tree in the foreground added to the beauty of the vistas.

“I never want to leave,” I said.

“Another day and you’ll be screaming for a hot shower.” Tina laughed.

“Maybe. But for today, this is my heaven.”

Back at camp I showered under a sputtering outdoor faucet and joined my friends for an early dinner. With no alcohol or drugs in my system for two days, I slept deeply and dreamt of a reunion with my kids.