Africa–Part Three: Adventuring in Style in Bush Country

I admit, the safari was one of the reasons I decided to go to Tanzania. Close encounters with African animals have been something I’ve dreamed about since childhood, back when I was a Tarzan wannabe swinging through (and sometimes into) trees. If I had known that in addition to a Land Cruiser I’d also ride a motorcycle in the African bush among the animals, the decision to go would have been a no-brainer. 

Early Monday morning, two large safari vehicles picked our group up at the lodge where we were staying and took us to Tarangire National Park. I was totally ready for the close encounters. OK, so they weren’t too close, just close enough. We peered at African wildlife from the safety of an oversized Toyota Land Cruiser. (We did get to pop our heads outside through an opening in the roof.)

Midday we stopped at a “safe area” where our driver, Edward, said we’d get out for a picnic. “Hopefully not for the lions,” I joked. Edward said they don’t come to this spot, but he did warn us about the dangerous monkeys that loitered there. We were eating when one the aforementioned primates ran up and stole Mike’s muffin right off the table in front of us. A perfectly good banana lay right beside it. We laughed at Mike. I felt a little sorry for him, but not sorry enough to give him mine. I’d heard those African muffins were really tasty. The monkey knew what it was doing.

Mike didn’t want the banana, so he gave it to me. As I stood and looked out over the plains, I prepared to peel it. Turned out I didn’t have to. Because I didn’t get to eat it. The monkey sneaked up and grabbed it right out of my hand. Then he mockingly sat in a tree over my head enjoying my banana.

When the banana was gone, the thief eyed my apple.  Fortunately, about then our driver directed us back to the protection of the Land Cruiser. We drove on to encounter less-sneaky zebras, giraffes, and elephants. We even got a nice close-up view of a lion, watching us from the shadows. Whatever it was thinking, I’m sure it didn’t involve muffins or bananas.

At the end of the first day, we drove an hour and a half to our lodge in Karatu where a buffet meal awaited us. I should have been ashamed of my nice room, knowing my childhood hero would have probably chosen to sleep in a tree. Oh well.

Tuesday morning, we rode two hours to the Ngorongoro Crater. All eyes were watching out for a rare black rhino sighting. That didn’t materialize. We settled for hippos, hyenas, lions, zebras, wildebeests. 

At our picnic stop, the monkeys were replaced by a thieving stork. It was not quite as quick, but still able to grab a morsel or two from unsuspecting tourists. Pretty good for a stork that looked to be well past his baby-delivering years. After a three-hour trip, I got a good night’s sleep back at our lodge in Arusha.

The next day, Wednesday, some of the team was scheduled to start building a church in Longido. Services were scheduled in it for Sunday. I couldn’t wait to see how we could pull that off. I’ll share those details in my next blog.

We traveled back and forth to the building site in Longido in a big cushy Toyota bus. I watched the countryside as we motored through the bush on the Nairobi Highway. I saw giraffes, gazelles, and a dik-dik, which is a dwarf antelope. Dozens of herders were leading their goats, cattle, and mules to graze.

I talked to our driver about lions. He said they were at least 80 kilometers (50 miles) away. I still kept watch. I figured where there are tasty gazelles and dik-diks, there could certainly be a stray lion or two.

One particular day the radiator boiled over, so we pulled over along the highway. While we waited for help, I wandered into the bush to look around, not going farther than screaming-for-help distance, however. No animals were sighted. Maybe if I’d been carrying a banana . . .

One day while I was working on the church, Jackie asked if I wanted to take a little evangelism trip. Truthfully, I was more comfortable pounding nails, but I figured I would give it a shot—trusting I would get a whole lot of help from the Lord!

I asked where we were going, and she said back into the bush to visit some Masai tribal families. Wow. Having a moment of doubt already, I told her maybe I wasn’t the right person. Jackie said just love on them and ask how you can pray for them. And don’t forget to invite them to the new church we were building. 

There were five of us going, but all I saw was one motorcycle. Many times I’d seen three on a motorcycle in Africa. But five? Then Elisha, one of the preachers, approached me and asked if I rode. I said “Sure” but I was thinking never with more than one other passenger. Then he held out some keys. They went with a second motorcycle on the other side of the field where we were building. He wanted me to drive one!

I couldn’t believe it. Driving a motorcycle through the bush country of Africa! Then the thought came to me that I had not driven a motorcycle for approximately 40 years. I kept that to myself and accepted the keys. Three people climbed on one motorcycle, and I climbed on the other. That left the other preacher, Enoch, to ride on the back with me. Maybe I should have told him it had been a while. He would find that out soon enough.

Before I accepted a passenger, especially the preacher, I did a lap around the field. Nothing had changed in four decades. Everything on the bike was still located in the same place, and I was good to go. I pulled up beside him and he jumped on. To demonstrate his faith in me, he insisted I wear the one helmet we had between us. He said to follow the other cycle through the bush, and we took off.

There were no roads, just a maze of sandy paths around the scrubby trees. It took me a little while to get used to shifting gears, balancing a passenger, and navigating in deep sand. But I wasn’t about to let the other guys get too far ahead. I was doing some fishtailing—but that was on purpose, right? I glanced in the mirror at the preacher. He was wide-eyed and I didn’t blame him. 

We were totally out in the bush, just like some photos I’d seen in the travel guides. I remembered seeing lions in some of those photos. I asked Enoch if there were any in this area. He said no, they usually stay at least 20 kilometers away. I did some quick math. That was only about 12 miles. Was there a wall or something that let them know not to come here? I couldn’t decide if I wanted to encounter one or not. It would be cool, but I was leaning towards not. It was my turn for wide eyes.

We reached our destination uneaten. There were three grass huts standing together, surrounded by a fence made from tightly intertwined thorn bushes. It looked effective for keeping the cattle and goats in and carnivores out. Each hut was occupied by a Masai lady with about half a dozen small children. I was told that each was married to the same Masai warrior.

One lady was sitting outside her hut and met us with a smile. It took a little while, but the kids warmed up to us as well. Their mom was wearing her original tribal dress, but the kids were dressed in western clothes for the most part. Through two translators (one spoke Swahili to another translating into the language of the Masai), we prayed for their health and their crops. We invited them to the new church. Turns out some of the kids and one of the ladies came to children’s day at the church on Saturday.

We stopped at a couple more Masai farms on the way back. I met one of the men at the last one. He was about six foot six, and had an air of authority about him. He gathered his family around him and we had a very nice visit. Then our gang of five hopped back on our cycles. Though I was fishtailing less on the return trip, the preacher seemed thankful I had handed the helmet back to him.

I got some Evil Knievel and some Tarzan out of my system on this trip to Africa. I may need to get more out on another one someday. Maybe I can even convince *Jane to go with me. Probably not, but I can take a swing at it.

*For younger readers unfamiliar with Tarzan, “Jane” would be my wife, Bonnie.