Ants in my pants...(posting from the road)

Things were going so smoothly...first game drive of the trip done (and quite successful), now all that was left was to enjoy the first night of camping. So much easier said then done. The campsite prep was done, the tent pitched in the middle of this vast clearing, dotted with the occasional tree. It was idyllic; flat surface, soft grass and the view out the front door was Lake Nakuru with it's flamingo filled shoreline. I didn't think it could get any better, but it turns out that camping in Africa comes with it's own set of hardships.

Everything was moving smoothly until dark, and then, as with most bad stuff in life, the problems start when the sun goes down. Exhausted after a long travel day, we crawled into our tent when I felt the first sting. I absently swatted at what I was certain was a mosquito but before I even could make contact I was acutely aware of several simultaneous bites and the absence of the telltale mosquito buzz. The illumination of the headlamp revealed the source of our pain and the culprit of the forthcoming sleepless night - tiny fireants. The bite was as painful as the ones that nibbled on me in Peru but the size was only one-tenth, making them much more difficult to spot. It seems as though we had set our tent up on top of a giant fireant hill - moving didn't make much difference, the damage was done and I have a feeling that they nest had been officially relocated to my sleeping bag. Anyone walking by our canvas home that night could hear a string of profanity followed by the rustling of trying to reach deep into my stupid mummy shaped (read coffin shaped) sleeping bag to locate and kill the offender. When I took my pyjamas off in the morning, I had 17 dead ants stuck to my legs.

The morning coffee did little to alleviate my fatigue as I started to help Leila take down our tent. Unfortunately this upset the baboon family that had decided that they too now wanted to move into our campsite. Baboons are not cute and adorable as mass media had led me to believe, they are nasty vicious little things that are absolutely not afraid of females. Any attempts to scare them are just met with a vicious squeal and a charging baboon.

I stood there for a minute; tired, frustrated and utterly dumbfounded with what to do. I need to pack my ant carcass filled tent up without a baboon inside and I am way too tired to figure out how to accomplish this. As I silently reflect on my dilemma I hear a rustling in the bushes behind me. If a lion jumped out and mauled me then I wouldn't have to take down the tent, confront the baboons and the horrible itching that I am experiencing will be the least of my worries. I look slowly to the left, waiting to see the face of a ferocious lioness but instead see the distinct markings of a zebra.

It's cliche to use the phrase, "thundering herd of zebras" but it definitely appropriate. I have no idea what caused them to run but they took off, winding their way through our campsite to another random clearing to stop and resume grazing. I will say this however, as terrifying as it was to wonder if I was going to be trampled to death...they did scare the baboons away. (The photos here are others from the game drives that we did at Lake Nakuru)