Travel Archives - Page 30 of 39 - Maggie InkMaggie Ink

The lion, the bitching and my wardrobe

November 21, 2010

Maybe it’s because I’m a Leo, but I’ve always had a special affection for lions.

So when other travelers told me that Kruger National Park in South Africa was like one big lion’s den, I said bring it. Just call me Daniel and toss me in there.

Only it wasn’t. I know that driving around game reserves are one big crap shoot anyway — the animals aren’t exactly paid to stand on the side of the road, tap dancing for the humans’ entertainment — but I expected something. Anything. Even a vague hint of mane in the distance would have made me happy.

Then we happened upon this scene, in which a randy male lion was trying to woo his female prey in the middle of the road. (Cue the Beatles’ “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?”)

But, like any big game sightings at Kruger, the scene quickly became a crazy traffic jam, with each vehicle creeping through the lanes, cutting each other off, honking, yelling and inching forward until every human was thoroughly pissed off and every animal was terrified.

As we drove away, I spilled my hot coffee all over my brand new shorts, prompting a cartoon bubble of !^%$@#^%!#%^$# to burst from my mouth. Now what was I going to wear as I traveled through Africa?

So my car continued making circles around the park, frustrated, angry, sad. The horny lions were okay, but not as satisfying as we had hoped. (And definitely not as satisfying as it was for the cats.)

The gravel road seemed too bumpy and endless. We were hot and mad. We decided to screw this lion stuff and head back for camp.

Suddenly a lone lioness emerged from a thick clump of grass.

We were the only car on the road. It was just us and her.

We locked eyes. For a moment, everything was completely silent, the world on pause. Then the lioness found a satisfactory shady spot underneath a tree and plopped down.

It didn’t feel real that this gorgeous creature and I could be sharing the same space, the same air, the same landscape.

After a while, the scene felt almost too personal and intimate. This was her kingdom — we were only visitors.

We drove away, happy.

The landscape of Kruger

November 21, 2010

The animals at Kruger National Park hog all the attention — but the landscape deserves a look too.

The park is larger than Israel and contains a fantastic diversity of flora and fauna: Endless stretches of bushveld, crooked trees, ribbons of river.

Here’s a taste of what you can see.

Keeping the wild kingdom wild

November 8, 2010

Of all the animals in the world, bushbabies are among the most huggable. Looking part cat, part monkey, these nocturnal creatures are all huge eyes, teacup-sized ears and fuzzy coats. They’re like a 5-year-old child’s drawings come to life.

Lucky for my friends and me, we stayed at a lodge where the bushbabies come out to play every night. At 7 p.m. on the dot, tiny hands reached out from behind tree branches. Next came the tiny feet, tiny tails and finally huge ears. The bushbabies were ready for dinner!

The owner of the lodge handed us slices of fresh banana. We’d hold a slice up and a bushbaby would tentatively, carefully approach us, then snag the fruit from our fingers. It was awesome.

I was giddy.

Cut to two nights later, when we were camping out at Kruger National Park. Our campsite was encircled by electric fences. And beyond those fences, the hyenas were waiting.

They were there with good reason. Many campers cook on site. Then, not wanting to leave the food scraps by their tents, they toss everything over the fence.

Over time, the hyenas have learned that good food can be found there, quick, easy and without any effort. This behavior has been reinforced by the actions of other campers, who purposely toss the hyenas a bone or two.

Clearly, that is wrong — and not just because the park will slap you with a huge fine. It’s wrong because those hyenas have picked up bad habits, they have lost some of their wildness and they will likely become more aggressive toward humans because of it.

Then I started wondering what makes that so different from feeding bushbabies. Does it matter if the animals are more adorable and less threatening? Have I been acting selfishly?

Or, to get more to the point, is it always wrong to feed wild animals?

Unfortunately, I think the answer is yes. As much as I try to justify the bushbaby thing — because they’re so sweet and because it was something I really, really wanted to do — it doesn’t make it right.

Sometimes it’s incredibly difficult to put my cuddle instinct aside and act in the best interest of other creatures. But as someone who truly loves animals, that’s what I need to learn to do.

A day in the life: Uganda

November 8, 2010

4 a.m. Wake up unable to breathe, almost like gauze has been wrapped around my face and neck. Panic. Then realize gauze has, in fact, been wrapped around my face and neck – I’m tangled in my mosquito net.

5 a.m. Wake up to a chorus of roosters, obviously competing for which early bird will get the worm.

7 a.m. Drunk guy in my dorm room falls off his bunk. At the very least, this has temporarily stopped the snoring.

8:14 a.m. Someone lifts my mosquito net and peers at my face. “Oh, sorry,” she says. “Wrong person.”

8:30 a.m. There’s a goat in my room.

8:42 a.m. Leave the dorm in search of a toilet. Find one, but it doesn’t flush.

8:59 a.m. Hooray! Found a toilet that flushes. This makes me feel very accomplished.

9:15 a.m. Breakfast time: A French press filled with incredibly rich Ugandan coffee and a sad packet of instant oatmeal.

10 a.m. Shower. Water is hot.

10: 02 a.m. Shower. Water is not hot.

10:04 a.m. Shower. Water is hot.

10:05 a.m. Shower. Water is not hot. I am beginning to see a trend here.

10:34 a.m. Wash my laundry in a sink using Dove soap and a fingernail brush. Vow to never complain about doing laundry once I return home.

11:05 a.m. I am speeding through downtown Kampala on a boda-boda (motorcycle), weaving in and out of chaotic traffic, soaring over potholes, my hair flying in the wind because helmets don’t exist here. If my dad could see me now, he would kill me.

11:10 a.m. Everywhere I go, kids are running after me, laughing, waving and shouting, “Mzungu! Mzungu!” (“White! White!”)

11:45 a.m. Find an electronics shop where I can buy a converter to adapt all my American cords for Ugandan plugs. The man tells me the price, and it seems very expensive. I try to do the conversion in my head, (2,280 shillings to the U.S. dollar), but the math is too much for my little brain and I want to cry. The shop is very frantic and a lot of people are crowding around me, yelling things. I hand over the money, and then later realize I got ripped off.

12:02 p.m. Meet Ivan, who owns a batik fabric shop. He asks where I’m from. “California,” I say. “Ah, the Governator,” he says, then launches into an Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation.

12:57 p.m. Because I got ripped off at the electronics store, I try to offset the cost by skimping on lunch. My feast consists of vegan jerky and an apple.

2:11 p.m. Wander around the market. Someone’s cell phone ringtone is the theme for “Beverly Hills 90210.”

3 p.m. Work. Write. Work. Send e-mails about potential volunteer work in Kenya and Ethiopia.

7:30 p.m. Dinner. Roasted pumpkin curry with rice for $3. Washed down with a cold Nile beer for $1.05. Amazing.

8 p.m. Beautiful Ugandan songs play on the radio. I ask what it is, and the reply is shocking: Country music! Next stop, Toby Keith.

10 p.m. Read, then it’s bedtime. I say goodnight to the goat and turn out the lights.

Kids of Kampala

November 7, 2010

I was lost in thought, walking through a quiet neighborhood in Kampala when I heard what has now become my name — Mzungu! Mzungu! (White! White!)

I looked down and saw this little cutie, desperately trying to get my attention. After a brief conversation, he asked me to take his photo.

Next we were joined by this sweet girl, who used two splintery wooden beams as crutches.

More of their friends showed up to see what the heck was going on.

Then they ran off to gather even more kids. I was apparently the greatest entertainment in town.

These two older boys — one missing an eye, the other one blind — were shy at first and asked if I could take their photo. When I raised the camera, they struck a too-cool-for-school pose.

This soon became a party, with all the kids giggling, smiling and hamming it up for me. Sometimes they were so excited, they danced around in circles and forgot to actually look at the camera. They often ran up to me and stroked my skin, chanting a chorus of “Mzungu.”

As I continued my walk, the kids slowly trickled away, looking for fun elsewhere. Eventually it was just me and the blind child, rolling a tire down a dusty dirt road.

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