On Sunday morning we were up at 5:00 and caught our taxi by 5:30 to begin our trek to the safari. Our safari began on Sunday afternoon in the Luangwa National Park of Zambia. It was an amazing week. Our first night we went out on a night safari and came across two elephants fighting. But their hearts didn’t really seem in it. Whenever we shined the light on them within 10 or 15 seconds they would stop their fighting and back out of the light. Another minute or two we would hear them fighting again and again the light would shine and their awkward and intricate dancing would subside. Then we stumbled upon a couple of lionesses stalking their prey. These lions seemed all business. And full of confidence. They were tracking the impala and puku who were just 50 feet in front of us reclining on the grass. Though we shined a light directly on the lion as she walked within 15 feet of us she displayed no concern. She was lean, but powerful. Over the next few days we would see many such things – but what I think I took most delight in was the stops both mid-morning and mid evening for tea. On Monday we stopped by a bend in the Luangwa River. It was a beautiful setting. We watched the elephants and a giraffe on either side of us, in what seemed like a simply pastoral scene. We took our drinks and our “biscuits” and stood along the waters and wondered to ourselves about being here.
On Monday evening, our guide, Mayem (pronounced Ma’am), took us to a lagoon, where we watched the sun set and after it was dark finally pulled away and began our night safari. Over the next few days we watched the sun set on a sandbar at the isolated “Island Bush Camp” where we and the staff were the only people we saw for more than 2 days. We sat on plastic chairs with our guide, and our protector – named (no kidding) “Danger” and talked about growing up and going to school and the noise of the hippopotami. The next day we had morning tea in the midst of our first “foot safari.” We stopped along some water again and took our rest. Later that evening, we sat in front of our campsite and watched the colors of the sky change and felt like we were perhaps back at the beginning of time – it seems so little changed. Where we were there is no electricity (though flush toilets, rigged up by the staff). Our beds are outdoors covered by mosquito netting on platforms above the river.
On Wednesday we had tea across from a crocodile lying along the river after walking by a “pan” in the midst of the jungle filled with baboons and impala. We found a bent over tree to sit on as we warmed ourselves with the tea.
These tea times are wonderful – they are times when we sit together and reflect on what we’ve seen and just soak up the landscape that we’ve been walking around. We talk about the scary moment this morning when we were out walking and stumbled across an elephant who was as startled as we – and made a mock charge at us, that sent us stepping backwards with a start (his ears flared and he raised his trunk – and then he slowly backed away). Why is it that I don’t take such time at home? Why is it – that I just run from activity to activity, meeting to meeting – and don’t take the time to simply sit together and reflect on what has happened over the last few hours? It really is quite a helpful and healthy exercise. One sees things that one doesn’t see living in the midst of it all. But best by far is the change simply to en-joy the experience. That is to say – to note what a gift life is and what is happening to be able to be in wonder at God’s creation and our life in it and apart of it. It is a question I will bring back from this time – is there a way to carve out such a time when we get back to Indianapolis? I hope so. Is there a way to encourage the sense of wonder and joy in the world around us – in our parish, our staff, our lives at home and in the community?
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