I should pitch my tent where??? (posting from the road)

So it turns out that one of the most messed up things that one can ever do in life is to camp in the Serengeti. I am not talking about the Safari tent, resort camping...I am referring to the pitching your canvas tent on the edge of the wild.

People come from all over the world to see the amazing diverse wildlife that the Serengeti has to offer...and it has it all...lions, giraffe, zebras, hippo, cheetah, lepoard, buffalo etc - plenty of things that can kill you.

There have been a core group of us that have been together now for over 3 weeks, we are the 'experienced' Africa campers - we have braved every type of barnyard animal not to mention warthogs, hippo, zebra and, the most menacing of all to date, the baboon. So it is with a misguided sense of confidence that we strut into our new site, reassuring the newbies and help set up camp. The confidence we had was zapped after the safety briefing. The concentration of wildlife here is far greater than previous sites and in particular the jackals, hyena and lions have no qualms about wandering into the site in search of food - ideally scraps from dinner but a camper or two may do in a pinch.

Once in the tent for the night it was recommended that we remain there, but if we needed to get out the importance of utilizing the torch/flashlight to search for eyes before EVER emerging from the tent was stressed, reviewed and practiced. The last part of our briefing was reviewing the different animal noises that we would hear in the night (I guess to anticipate what was about to eat you). Feeling much more hesitant than before, Leila and I bid good night to the others and set off for our tent...farthest away. Leila was unrolling the tent windows while I covered her with my flashlight when the unmistakable low rumble of a lion caused us to both bolt into the tent in record setting speed.

We sat in there quietly for a few minutes, catching our breath and debating our new dilemma...the need to brush our teeth. Normally we would just spit outside the door of our tent but having no knowledge it mint is a lion attractor we elect to brave the outside again. After all, we continued to tell ourselves, lion noises can be heard for up to a kilometer - so who knows where that lion is.

Chin up we step behind our tent and frantically brush our teeth. Then we hear a new noise. Not an animal sound...grass rustling. We listen intently but are unable to pinpoint the source of the noise; we sweep the area with our flashlights but are unable to find the eyes of any creature. Deciding we have tempted fate long enough we bolt back to the tent.

Nervously we sit...the grass rustling is faint but still present...and then all of a sudden our entire tent starts shaking! My heart officially stopped beating until I hear the distinctive laughter of Steven, one of our long standing group. I silently debated long and hard before ultimately informing him that we had heard a REAL animal just outside there a few minutes ago. Somehow Steven convinces us to emerge from the canvas cocoon that we are safely tucked away in and show him what we mean.

Now there are three idiots standing on the edge of the savannah plains listening to the grass rustling. Our hushed whispers might as well have been shouting given the quietness of the night, but still the rustling continued. What animal could be out there that didn't fear the noise we were making? Again, a scan of the area with our torches revealed no eyes. Now we were getting seriously freaked out...we decided that the best course of action was to go and get more people. Specifically, our guide George – he was African, he would know what to do.

Steven returned with George and about 5 other people…we all stood there, hearts loudly beating as the grass continued to rustle, no eyes visible despite all our torches pointed directly at the source of the noise. The prudent thing would have been to leave…go to bed and leave nature well enough alone. But Leila and I seemed determined to try and discover what we thought was ultimately going to kill us that night - our best guess still being one of the large nocturnal cats.

Then a wayward torch shone upwards and caught the distinctive glint of animal eyes...they were impossibly high off the ground for a lion, my mind still stuck on that train of thought. Within a few seconds, all of our lights shone directly at the owner of the eyes…it was a massive Cape Buffalo, just a few feet from where I was to lay my head.

I know you are all thinking, “whew” just a buffalo…better than a leopard or a lion…but far, far from it. African Savannah Cape Buffalo kill an estimated 200 people a year, they are unpredictable and unlike the smaller Asian Water Buffalo they have NEVER been domesticated. Of the Africans I had met on this trip, all clearly stated that they animal they feared more than any other was the buffalo – it would commonly charge without warning or provocation.

The group of us stood silently staring at him while he in turn sized us up. George, our very experienced African guide, remarked that it was the largest Buffalo that he had ever seen, a comment I thought was in poor taste given the location of George’s tent was a good 150 feet away (a very disturbing fact considering that Savannah Cape Buffalo grow up to 900kg/1980lbs). George then had us all slowly back away and into our tents, Leila and mine being conveniently right there.

It was a long night, laying there waiting to be trampled to death when the realization that camping in the Serengeti is definitely one of the most f*%#^ed up activities that one could do…so what does it say about me that I wish I could stay there every night…