My Safari Adventure

According to the African Safari Journal (and, really, what do they know?), the top five safari destinations are:

1. Tanzania
2. Kenya
3. South Africa
4. Botswana
5. Zambia

Now, they only listed the top five, but after my Spring Break trip out east, I have to imagine that Burkina Faso has got to be 6 or 7. Ok, so Eastern Burkina Faso is no Serengeti, but I was impressed nonetheless. The trip got off to a great start: In our search for someone to lead us on our quest for big game, we came across one local guide with a truck who insisted we call him "The Panther." The Panther had one arm in a sling- no doubt injured on a previous expedition while he was fighting off lions trying to protect his crew. The Panther was quite a character. This was going to be an adventure.

On our first trek away from base camp (ok, from our hotel), we got lucky right away. Not two minutes into the trip, The Panther motioned for those of us in the bed of the truck to quiet down. About 20 meters from the truck, an elephant was stretching out its trunk to get at some leaves.


During the next couple of hours, we spotted monkeys, antelope, hippos, antelope cheval (don't know what these are called in English, but they're big guys), warthogs, more elephants, and plenty of guinea fowl. Of course, I get woken up every morning by the screeching guinea fowl that live all around me back in my village, so forgive me for not being all that excited to see the wild ones up close in their natural habitat. I was impressed, however, by many of the non-guinea fowl birds we saw. The colors- the bright reds and greens and blues- were amazing. All in all, it was a good day. But I could not call it a total success. There remained one elusive animal that I had my heart set on seeing- the great king of the jungle. No worries, we would rise before dawn the next day and get an early start tracking down my lion.

The next morning, we saw some of the same animals as we did the day before, but not nearly as many. We stopped at the site of a small fishing operation on the stream that forms the border between Burkina Faso and Benin. Aided by The Panther's no-nonsense negotiating skills, we convinced one of the fishermen to row us across to Benin. We spent about 1.5 minutes exploring Benin. Then we rowed back. Fun stuff.


As our safari was coming to an end, I was trying not to be too disappointed that we hadn't spotted the great cat. Look on the bright side, I told myself. You were very lucky to see all those other animals. You need to get over the fact that you're not going to see a... But, wait! Oh my, what is this? Why, those are lion tracks!!

After his sharp eye had identified the fresh tracks, our fearless leader, The Panther, led us deep into the African bush, following the lion's trail. Just before we were about to give up hope and call it a day, I spot something move off in the distance. We press on, getting dangerously close to where I thought I had seen the motion. Just then, it jumps out at us! We were scared out of our minds! But then, it apologized and started singing "Hakuna Matata" and everyone calmed down.


No, we didn't see any lions on our safari (though we really did see those tracks). As if to make up for that letdown, there was a party of monkeys hanging out at our hotel when we got back that day.




It was a fun trip. Before the safari, I got a chance to visit the villages of a couple of the other volunteers, Tyler and Cary. Tyler, a misguided fan of both the St. Louis Cardinals and the North Carolina Tar Heels, lives in a big house that has electricity (he's the only one in our group with that luxury), and there's a pool he can swim in just a few minutes walk from his place. Cary, neither a fan of the Cardinals nor of the Tar Heels, lives in the equivalent of a walk-in closet (no lights, no pool). Sometimes life's just not fair.

After the safari, I was able to check in on my host family from my training in Yako. That's always such an uplifting trip- As I turn the corner onto the street where they live, all the kids playing in the road run up to me to shake my hand or give me a hug. A couple of them grabbed rocks and demonstrated how much their practicing over the past few months has improved their juggling skills (that is to say, not at all). When I walk into the courtyard, my host mom screams something in Moore (the local language in these parts), gives me a great big hug, and does that European thing where she kisses my right cheek then my left then my right then my left. My uncle also tries to give me a big hug, but something goes wrong with the embrace and we end up banging heads. Of course, in all the excitement, no one cares, but I'd have a sore spot on my head for the next couple of days. And when my host dad gets back from wherever he was, he's all, "Wend Panga! Wend Panga!" More hugs. More smiles. It's like I'm the prodigal son returning back home. Except instead of killing the fatted calf, they make me rice with grease sauce.

Happy Easter, all!

josh