Tsavo and Amboseli reserves: Where privileged white folks used to shoot animals with bullets and drink liquor in the morning during colonial times, privileged white folks shoot animals with cameras and drink coffee, or liquor, in the morning during post-colonial times. In both cases, the idea of physically taking something away from the natural habitat prevails. Little effort is made to enjoy the land without the crutch of material aids. The need to accomplish something tangible, to prove something to others up North, is at the crux of game park safari. Thoughtful analysis or meditation with wildlife or people remains peripheral. I am not the first to stumble upon this revelation, nor would I be the first to endorse a variety of “Eco-Tourism” alternatives (walking safaris, yoga retreats, volunteering) to classic, drive-thru, shoot-em-up, chug-em-down, meathead-type safari tours.
I’ve been extremely blessed, lucky, spoiled with animal safaris, having done many, both “Eco” and Churchill style, across East Africa. Throughout them, I’ve taken hundreds of photos, and boasted of them when they won notoriety in a Lewis and Clark college photo contest. And come hour 10 in the back of a slow-moving Afro-jeep, participation in the subtle synthesis and exchange of soda and rum is unavoidable. What is also unavoidable when traveling with a large group of American girls (or is it any group of the opposite sex for whom you’re familiar with?), is emission of a noise more piercing and unforgettable than the loudest roar of simba: collective squealing. When fed strong coffee and confined to small spaces for hours, a herd of traveling girls from USA can summon a distinctly abrasive, high-pitched verbal reaction at the sight of adorable creatures. Squealing duration varies greatly, as researchers (tour guides) have confirmed squealing sessions that have continued for several hours without any sustained interruption of silence.
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