For the third time in an hour, the GPS device tumbled violently into my lap, dislodged from its suction cup holder on the front windshield. We had been navigating a long journey on a road so rugged and uneven that my entire body vibrated in sync with the jeep. Speaking was a challenge, with every word stuttering out of my mouth in disjointed syllables, mirroring the jolting rhythm of our ride.
The name “Serengeti” is derived from the Masai word “Siringit” meaning the place where the land moves forever or “endless plain”. My view from the passenger seat revealed a landscape which unfolded in a mesmerizing display of endless expanse. The vast plain seemed to stretch on indefinitely, with no discernible beginning or end.
I picked up the GPS and placed it back on the suction cup holder. An hour had passed since our last pit stop.
Peering out the window, I noticed mounds of extra dirt and gravel dumped onto the road, in a feeble attempt to compensate for the years of wear and tear from other safari vehicles. However, without a maintenance truck with a huge metal roller device to flatten the mounds, the road had transformed into a series of mini mountains and deep crevasses, baked hard by the relentless sun.
The Serengeti’s harsh terrain and the unexpected vehicle malfunction had cast a shadow over our spirits. The adverse road conditions took a toll on our moods and the jeep itself, culminating in the breakage of a rear axle. As we worked to rectify the situation, I couldn’t shake off the underlying concern about potential encounters with the area’s untamed inhabitants. The unexpected turn of events had transformed our African safari adventure into a test of resilience and resourcefulness.
We plowed forward on the rugged terrain grappling with the challenges posed by the broken axle and the surrounding wilderness, I found myself oscillating between a sense of duty and an undercurrent of apprehension about our precarious situation in the heart of the Serengeti.
As far as I could see there was not a shade shelter or anything just miles and miles of barren dried ground flanking either side of the endless dirt road.
Over the sound of the jeep slowly coming apart I heard his voice, “we need to pull over and fix the wheel so we can make it to a campsite before dark.”
He maneuvered the jeep off the road, and we began our respective duties. My pivotal role in fixing the broken wheel was to get out and find three decent rocks to place under the other three wheels to keep the jeep from rolling on top of him when he was under it.
I enjoyed thinking I had some sort of important contribution to the repair of our jeep as well as our ability to continue our African safari adventure. I quickly located three rocks I thought would suffice. He accepted two of the three as big enough to hold the jeep and told me to find a larger third rock. This section of the Serengeti had more dirt than substantial sized rocks but somehow, I found a rock he accepted.
Next step was for him to jack up the 1978 Land Rover so he could remove the tire and work on the axel.
My second set of duties entailed handing him the right tools at the right time. Again, these duties inflated my sense of importance in contributing to the well-being of us.
I didn’t say it out loud, but I had secretly promoted myself to wild animal lookout. Someone had to pay attention to my mother’s voice in my head, “You will be eaten by a lion!” The other significant statement she made in regards to my African adventure, “What does a person have to do to get a trip to Africa?” All I could think to say in response was “Mom, do you really want to know?” I could tell by the look on her face it was a rhetorical question to be contemplated, not directly answered by her only daughter.
The African adventure was an unexpected invite to join the man who was now covered in Serengeti dust and axel grease, pulling the tire off the jeep while mumbling a few swear words to himself. He called me over a holiday weekend while I was up in the mountains with my girlfriends and said did I want to come to Africa on the trip of a lifetime?
I thought if I saw a lion or a pride of lions or an angry charging rhinoceros or a hungry crazed hyena, I could let out a warning yell “LION RUN” and he would have to crawl very fast out from under the jeep and hop inside. The Serengeti reminded me of the setting in the Lion King movie.
Despite my attempts to rationalize that the animals in the Lion King could talk and reason, I couldn’t dismiss the inherent risk posed by the wildlife in their natural habitat.
I was standing on the side of the road performing at the top of my game as a Tool Finder and Hander! If he had time to do a performance review, I felt I deserved a 10 out of 10. At least I had a semi true response for my mom on what a “Lady has to do to get a trip to Africa!” It’s knowing how to handle a man’s tools. I made a mental note to be sure to let her know this information as soon as I made it home safe and sound proving I had NOT been eaten by a lion.
During the smooth hand off a big half inch wrench with forty five degree tork (I may be making some tools names up to sound like an expert), I noticed two Masai warriors standing next to the jeep on the side of the road. It was as if the two boys had materialized from the dust kicked up by a herd of Wilderbeasts. Each of the boys was holding wooden spears taller than either of them. I would find out later Masai warriors were known for being strong and courageous. They are known for their skill with shields and spears, and are especially feared for throwing their clubs called “orinka” hard enough to kill another man or a lion. They were colorfully dressed. Maasai warriors, or morans, wear two pieces of cloth, primarily red in color. One piece is worn across the right shoulder and drapes down the body with a belt around the waist. The other piece of cloth is worn around the shoulders.
They must have thought we looked ridiculous two humans as white as the albino camels we had passed on our way out of the Ngorongoro Crater, pulled over on the side of the road doing something to fix our jeep. I carefully walked over to be closer to them. I made an attempt at greeting them letting them know he and I were friendly very friendly just in case they had any ideas of using their spears. I noticed one of the boys had a beautifully colored beaded bracelet on his wrist. He took it off his wrist and put it on mine. I could tell he wanted me to make an offer to purchase the bracelet. I went back to the jeep and pulled out a few Tanzanian dollars placing them gently in the hand of the taller of the two warriors. He seemed happy with the amount I paid him for the bracelet. He took it off and handed it to me. I still have the bracelet to this day as a reminder of one of the best days of my life, even though the wheel kept coming off the jeep. Everything happens for a reason, I did what I had to do to get an African safari, the roads needed to be rough, the axel had to break and we had to pull over in the middle of nowhere so I could meet the two Masai warriors.
I turned around and went back to my tool handing job after placing my new bracelet on my wrist. I looked back to see if the Masai warriors were still watching the two of us repairing the broken axel. They were gone, disappeared back into the dry yet mystical dust of the Serengeti.
We were back on the road again. Wheel in place where it should be for at least another fifty miles depending on if there was any possibility the road could actually get worse and rougher.
We drove for another hour or so doing our best to use the GPS to find a public campground in the middle of the Serengeti. Who would have thought I would ever be able to say those words out loud and then actually be acting it out. Not watching it on a movie screen.
We were truly in the middle of nowhere. The signage was sparse, there were very few landmarks. It is not like the public campground in the Serengeti was next to the 7-Eleven, or next to the library or even the picnic area with the tennis courts. Somehow, we managed to locate the campground. As we pulled into the site an eerie feeling flooded through my body. The campground was deserted. There was a pavilion with covered tables. It was run down and not “glamping” or anything close to luxurious. There were a couple of people at the tables under the pavilion. They appeared to be local Tanzanians.
He could tell by the look on my face I wanted to leave. His voice was firm as he looked at me and said “It is getting dark and right now I need to fix the wheel before we can go anywhere. Just stay close to the jeep, I get why you feel uneasy.” He was right, there was nothing either of us could do.
I was not sure we could have left anyway because under no circumstances was driving after sunset on the Serengeti a good idea. Talk about getting eaten by a lion. How many wild animals actually
He was right, there was nothing either of us could do except fix the jeep.
I looked around and noticed there were several dark green canvas tents set up in scattered campsites. The tents were not empty; however, they were not occupied by humans. Baboons were wildly going in and out of the tents. A baboon would run in one tent, not sure what he was doing in the tent. Probably looking for a banana or some kind of food. Then just a minute or two later the baboon would come back out.
The Land Rover was still being worked on. There was nothing I could do at this time. He had all the tools he needed. We must have looked a bit ridiculous. He was wearing a pair of shorts that used to white. Now they were covered in dust, dirt, and grease. The fact that the shorts were dirty was completely understandable when we were in the middle of the Serengeti. The shorts weren’t just dirty they were full of holes. In fact, they appeared to be close to a state of total disintegration. If those shorts originated from Serengeti dust and they were on the verge of returning as dust!
The sun began its slow descent to the line of the horizon. We were no longer even capable of chasing the dusk to the next less precarious campsite. It was too late we would have to stay put and prepare ourselves to fight off the band of wild thieving baboons. Not to mention the lions who would surely show up soon. Then there was the possibility that we would be ambushed by a group of Masai warriors.
I heard a low roar in the distance. It could be one of two things, a hungry Lion ready to make us his dinner or a tribe of angry Maisi warriors with very sharp spheres. I turned around to see three safari jeeps pulling into the campground. The sound of the motors was enough to frighten the gang of wild baboons out of the tents. They went running into the vast grassland beyond the campground. All at once tourists and their guides departed the jeeps heading for their tents hoping that the baboons had not made off with their personal items.
I let out a sigh of relief knowing that we were safe at least for a few more hours. At least until the wee hours of the morning when the lions were on the hunt for a midnight snack. I fell asleep thinking if we could make it through the Serengeti with a broken jeep and an only partially functioning GPS we could make it through anything.
Quirky Confidence 
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