From Their Perspective - My Family's Trip to Africa

Our trip to Africa would have never been, had it not been for our son Lee stationed there as a Peace Corps volunteer. What a schlep. I confess, at some points I asked why Lee wasn’t stationed somewhere like Costa Rica or Samoa—I could understand that! You see, in the Gerston family, adventure occurs when a food server fails to stop by for a drink order at the resort pool, thus forcing us to find the bar on our own. It’s not that we’re spoiled or pampered—we just don’t do anything that requires planning or adventure. Against that background, we spent four months between last January and April planning our Africa trip with Lee and our travel agent, Nancy Burger, working out an incredibly complicated agenda. Our efforts came to fruition a few weeks ago—with some weather-related alterations—when we boarded our plane to Vilanculos, Mozambique, with stops in London (overnight) and Johannesburg. On December 27th, we set our eyes on Lee for the first time since September 2008. That was a memorable moment, although only the first of many.


Lee looked great. Between working out with homemade weights and a lot of walking each day, he was toned and healthy. Seeing him in such good shape and so happy about his life was worth the trip in itself. Everything else from that point on was bonus—of which we had plenty during the remainder of our journey. In the days that followed, Lee (aka interpreter and sometimes guide) escorted us through his part of the world—first through Mozambique, then Swaziland, and finally South Africa. Along the way we visited with his African mother, the woman who housed Lee for his first three months and taught him Mozambique traditions. We didn’t see enough to become experts on anything, but what we saw opened our eyes in ways we wouldn’t have imagined before our arrival.


Developing countries are known for their contradictions and extremes, and that was certainly the case in our travels. In the midst of great poverty, cell phones and towers were everywhere. Most of the locals draw their water from wells, where we would often see women walking with 40-45 pounds of contained water balanced on their heads with a baby or two tucked in their sides or backs courtesy of a swath of colorful fabric. Yet, periodically, we saw solar panels pop up seemingly out of nowhere. For someone who can barely put one foot in front of another without tripping, this alone was a sight to behold. Cars and trucks are rare in this part of the world, so in the grip of blazing sun and high humidity, hitchhiking is a way of life. I found myself hitchhiking with Lee through Vilanculos, something I hadn’t done in nearly half a century and certainly wouldn’t do today in the U.S. Yet, in Mozambique it’s common, and somehow people find ways to squeeze into truck beds with 15 or 20 others already stuffed in place. Oh, what I would give to have the local shock absorber franchise.


The people are incredibly friendly, although the women can be a bit shy. Bargaining for goods is a way of life in tin-covered, cubicle-size bazaars —if you pay the asking price, you’re a sucker. With Lee fluent in Portuguese, the official language of Mozambique, we were always assured the best prices. On the pristine beach in Tofo, our second stop, the locals behaved in much the same manner as in Vilanculos. Whether selling baked (not roasted) cashews, gorgeous shells or fresh crab, the beach salespeople all had smiles at the opening and close of every deal. They don’t have much and they lead difficult lives, but somehow joy seems to ooze out nonetheless. Perhaps that’s the bi-product of low expectations.


Our accommodations were excellent throughout the trip, though varied. In Vilancolus, we stayed in a small complex overlooking the ocean. Each room had a net over your bed that you were advised to use; otherwise you were sure to make the local mosquitoes very happy. At Tofo, our room faced the ocean. We slept with the door open (netted of course) and close enough to the ocean to hear the waves—one of my favorite sounds. In Swaziland, the relative high altitude (2,500 feet) of our stay there was above the mosquito line, as the proprietor put it. That was fine with me. And in Jock Safari Lodge, our last residence in Kruger Park, netting again was the order of the day. At the end of our trip, I suffered a grand total of one mosquito bite.


A word about Jock Safari Lodge, where we spent three nights. Unknowingly, this last stop was the most palatial of all. Elisa (my wife) and I had our own thatched roof cottage, as did Lee and Rachel (our daughter). Each cottage had lovely furniture and an outside sitting area consisting of a large shaded area, a couple of lounge chairs in the sun and a small dipping pool. And the food, while inviting almost everywhere, was incomparable at Jock. Hearty breakfasts followed the morning safari, with lunch available a short time later. Tea with all kinds of snacks preceded the late afternoon safari. After our return at about 8:00 pm, we had cocktails and a late dinner. Do this for three days and nights and you’ll think you’ve died and gone to Safari heaven.


And now to the animals. Until this trip, wild animals were just not of interest to me. I got bored even watching the Discovery channel, and zoos are for kids. I’ve always thought that as long as animals stayed where they belonged and I stayed where I belonged, we could coexist. For me, the Riverboat Cruise ride at Disneyland tested the upper limit of my adventure quotient. Sensing an unpleasant tear in the wall separating these two worlds, I faced the safari idea with weak enthusiasm and mild curiosity. It was something I was supposed to do, but not much more. Wow, did my world change!


The first thing to remember about a safari is that you’re on their turf. Since humans thrive on controlling their environment this revelation in itself is a shock to the system. That said, a good safari honors the animal’s world. The idea is to travel with your guide in a large jeep with 6 or 8 people for a few hours (usually around sunrise or dusk) and get as close as possible to wild animals without intruding. A wise guide knows how to do that, assuming the animals cooperate with their presence, which is hardly guaranteed.


Our first safari occurred in Swaziland in an area known as Hlane. Although this reserve was small compared to Kruger, it was at Hlane where my fright index approached its limit. At a small watering hole, our guide stopped the jeep so that we could photograph a colorful bird. As everyone clicked away, a female elephant suddenly charged the jeep from behind a large bush no more than ten feet from our vehicle. The elephant was so close that basically one ear filled my picture frame. I thought we were done for, as the guide quickly jammed the jeep into reverse, backed up in a cloud of dust, and then pivoted out of there driving like a mad man for at least quarter mile. It was a scary moment, even for the guide. I’ll never forget it, that’s for sure. We saw other animals during that trip, including a lion, a couple of giraffes, some rhinos, warthogs, and lots of antelope, but they just didn’t register. I kept thinking of that elephant and its huge flapping ears.


The best animal sightings took place at Jock Safari Lodge, where we went out on six occasions. Jock is in the middle of Kruger Park, a game reserve approximately 350 miles (that’s not a typo) long and 50 miles wide. It’s sort of a reverse zoo. Instead of the animals housed behind a fence, people are. If you forget that and wander out, you’re likely to be someone’s snack. Over our three days at Jock, we saw just about everything imaginable, sometimes in large, intimating numbers. On one morning, we found the Big 5—lions, elephants, rhinos, buffalo and a leopard. Our guide, JV, told us that spotting all five in one outing occurs about one time out of thirty, so we felt fortunate. The arrays were impressive. On several occasions we saw mothers with their young—giraffes, elephants, buffalo, and rhinos come to mind. At one point, 28 elephants of all sizes sauntered onto the road, becoming a huge traffic jam. At another, four rhinos were flopped out on the road, leaving us unable to do anything until they moved. We saw fields of Zebras, where each has its own unduplicated set of stripes. We watched giraffes pick off leaves from trees and elephants snatch up large batches of grass as tall as six feet. We saw a rare black rhino (only 200 in all of Kruger, compared to 5,000 white rhinos) approach within 15 feet of our jeep, snort a few times, and then turn away. Baboons, monkeys, hyenas (truly ugly, in my humble opinion) and other animals were also sighted.


These kinds of sightings occurred again and again in all kinds of combinations and patterns. When the animals were not to be found, JV, an incredibly knowledgeable guide, showed us exotic birds, pointed out insects, and discussed the origins of the earth formations. You might think that once you see the animals, you could check them off a list and go on to something else. Instead, seeing the big game in different settings drew me back for more. I couldn’t get enough.


But my most memorable experience with JV came one time when he suddenly stopped the jeep and quietly uttered, “elephant.” Now self-qualifying as a big game observer, I appeared about and saw nothing. Three hundred yards down the road and around the curve, we saw elephants.

When I asked how he knew they were nearby, JV said that he had smelled the elephant. Amazing.


Our trip to Africa was memorable to be sure. Visiting with our son was a long overdue reward after a lengthy absence. On another level, experiencing Africa’s big game was nothing short of a humbling, yet exciting experience. I heartedly recommend it. But try not to go with too many predispositions—for whatever they are will be disabused soon enough.