Mists of the Serengeti(51)
“You missed the annual migration,” said Jack. “It’s an extraordinary sight.”
“I can’t imagine it getting any better than this,” I replied, staring out the window.
It was easy to get lost in the setting, almost as if something primal kicked in, peeling away the inner static and sharpening the senses. Everywhere around us, animals roamed the plains. Lions, elephants, impalas, wildebeest, zebras, warthogs, birds with iridescent feathers that shimmered like rainbows in the sun. There was a spectral magnificence to the ever-changing landscape. As we drove through the center of the park, the grassy plains gave way to patches of woodland and riverbeds lined with trees. Outcrops of granite stuck out like rocky islands on the horizon.
“Kopjes,” said Jack. “That one looks exactly like the rock where Rafiki presented Simba to everyone in The Lion King. You want to check it out?”
“I doubt we’ll find them there.” I laughed.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jack smiled. “But it’s the perfect place for a lazy lion to warm up.”
As we rounded the rocky outcrop, Jack slowed down and turned the car off.
“It’s your lucky day, Rodel.” He pointed to one of the rocks.
“Wha—” I halted when it moved. “Oh, my God. A rhino.”
“Number five of the Big Five—the black rhinoceros. Now you’ve seen them all.”
It was facing away from us, plucking on the bushes that sprouted between the boulders. Its body was thick and gray, like a round, armored tank. Red-billed birds perched on its back, feeding on what I assumed were ticks on its hide. We spent a few minutes admiring its imposing bulk, the large, lethal horns, and its surprisingly slim legs.
When Jack started the car, the rhino whirled around and turned its mud-crusted face to us. For a moment, it did nothing. Then it bellowed until a smaller figure appeared at its side.
“Fuck!” said Jack, backing away slowly. “She’s got a calf.”
Shielding the baby with her body, the rhino lowered its head and snorted loudly.
“Easy, big momma,” said Jack, as he continued reversing.
For a moment, it looked like the hefty beast had been placated by our retreat. Then she came at us, so fast and furious I had to blink to believe something that size could move so quickly. The ground rattled as she exploded into motion—hot anger, cold, dark eyes. My skin turned to ice, all the blood pumping desperately to keep my heart from collapsing. She was close, and looming closer, so close that I could see her breath—heavy with moisture exhaled from her lungs—the thick, dense fiber of her skin, the menacing iron horn lowered as she headed straight for us.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
It was like watching a hellish, Jurassic nightmare flash before my eyes. And there was nothing I could do to get away from it. The violent sound of crushing metal ripped through the air as she rammed into us. All the air expelled from my chest. The sheer, brute force of the attack sent us skidding across the sandy dirt, uprooting scrub and foliage. The car teetered on its edge, and for a heart-stopping moment, it felt like we were going to tip right over.
“Jack!” My arms and legs flailed wildly as the world tilted around me.
“It’s okay. We’re okay,” he said, as the car righted itself.
The rhino stood back in a display of dominance, but she looked like she was getting ready to charge again. Jack changed gears and the car leaped forward, wheels spinning as she crashed after us. We hurtled ahead, tearing through grass and shrubs until we lost her.
“Are you hurt?” Jack glanced my way.
“No.” My stomach was still clenched, and I knew I’d be bruised all over, but it sure beat the alternative. “You?”
“I’ve been through worse,” he replied. “Next time, grab the oh-shit handle.”
“The what?”
“The oh-shit handle.” He pointed to the handle over my window.
“Is that what it’s called?” I laughed, in spite of the close call. My heart was hammering loud and fast, as if trying to flee my chest. “I always thought it’s to hang up the dry cleaning.”
“City dwellers.” He shook his head.
“Safari maniacs,” I shot back.
We found our way to the main road, along the western edge of the Serengeti National Park. It was like we had the whole place to ourselves. I couldn’t spot a single car, probably because the road was horrifically corrugated, and the animals were few and far between. Against a hazy mountain range, ribbons of tall trees lined the banks of a flowing river.
“That’s the Grumeti,” said Jack. “It empties into Lake Victoria, Africa’s largest freshwater lake. Wanza is located right on the shores of Lake Victoria.”
“One more stop before we get there.”
“That’s right. First Magesa, then Wanza,” replied Jack, as we exited the park.
After a few potholed miles, we approached a bustling center, nestled at the foot of green, craggy hills.
“I’m assuming we’re coming up to the town of Bunda now?” I looked up from the map.
“That’s right.” Jack stopped to check the car and refuel. There was a sizable dent on the passenger door in the back, where the rhino had attacked. The door wouldn’t open or close, but apart from that, the Land Rover seemed to have weathered it well.