South Luangwa National Park, Zambia: Dreams Do Come True
I had a dream to go to Africa. It started thirty years ago when I met William Ruck Keene, the owner of Tongabezi Camp in Zambia, and Ralph Bousfield, the owner of Jack's Camp in Botswana. We were in Big Sur, California attending "The Spiritual Path to Love" workshop at the Esalen Institute. The three of us, along with a dozen other strangers, wanted to heal our emotional wounds and learn how to build lasting and loving relationships. As one often does in such a setting, we all became fast friends.
After the workshop, Ralph and Will hoped to spread the word about their safari camps to adventurous people up and down the coast and across the Southwest. I drove them to Los Angeles and hosted an open house so they could tell their stories to my friends. My heart leaped at their vivid descriptions of Victoria Falls and the Kalahari Desert. I imagined meeting meerkats and seeing hippos. Before we said goodbye, I promised Ralph and Will I would visit their camps one day. Thanks to my partner Brian, that day finally came true in September this year.
Brian and I are deep in the bush without cell service or Wi-Fi. We are cut off from the outside world so we can better connect to the land, the animals, and the people of Zambia. Everyone here dresses to match the surroundings. We all wear shades of sandy beige, leafy green, or bark brown. Black and blue attract the tsetse flies, so no one wears those colors. We all look like employees at Disney's Animal Kingdom. Our friend Christina, who spent much of her life in Zambia and lives in our hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico, is the owner of Africa Calls. She has planned our three-week adventure, beginning with South Luangwa National Park. The Bushcamp Company operates six secluded, intimate camps designed to provide an unrivaled wildlife experience.
Climbing into an open-sided Toyota Land Cruiser, we wind our way through the park en route to Chamilandu, our first bush camp. Our driver stops the vehicle five minutes into our journey to allow a female leopard to cross the road. She has a dead baboon in her jaws and is dragging it under her body. The baboon's family tries to intimidate the leopard. They scream and howl for their dead brother. The leopard stays cool in the face of the explosive emotion around her. She is hungry and in control as she disappears with her kill.
We veer off the main road and start to bounce in our seats. After the rainy season, the ground dries in huge chunks. "How are you enjoying your "African Massage?" our driver asks while navigating the poked surface towards a pride of lions feasting on a hippopotamus. There are four lionesses and four cubs surrounding the kill. The male lion is nowhere to be found. The lionesses wear the hippo's blood like its warpaint.
During the magic hour, impala leap across the plains, and elephants lumber on the river's edge. They stay close to each other to protect their wee babies. We stop the vehicle to watch them. Our guide and scout pull up a small table that fits perfectly on the hood. Gibson gin and tonics are mixed, and snacks are passed around. We drink our sundowners as the sky turns fire-engine red, and the hippos yawn and make large moaning sounds in the river that spreads before us.
When the sky goes dark, and the air has cooled, we start up the engine and spread blankets across our laps. Our scout scans the bush for signs of nocturnal life with a giant handheld spotlight. He stands next to our driver and swings the light from left to right, catching giraffes over here and porcupines over there.
At dawn, we watch the sunrise, sip coffee, and eat a bowl of porridge. Then, off we go on a walking safari. We learn how to identify various types of scat and discover the wonderous world of fungus termites. "The queen lives up to 15 years and lays 1,000 eggs a day. She's as big as a man's ring finger," our guide tells us. Elephants, giraffes, warthogs, and waterbucks who stand watch like sentinels, are close by but at a safe distance. It's exhilarating to step on the same ground they walk.
My favorite animal is the warthog. It's pretty/ugly with a long bumpy face adorned with ring-like tusks. The warthog's disproportionate head hangs low to the ground as it eats on bended knees. It's a busy animal, comfortable feeding next to the impalas and baboons who live together with the warthog in harmony.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, the zebra is the most beautiful African animal. I never really noticed before, but their stripes go all the way down to their hooves. They have big, fuzzy ears that are downright cute. We are lucky to see so many babies with their mothers. I'm smitten by their innocence and vulnerability.
A new animal for us is the kudu, Zambia's state animal. Twisted horns, enormous ears, circular markings around its barrel belly and back, and a cute milk mustache make it distinctive. Like the impala, the females live in herds with their babies and a single male.
We check the site where the lionesses have been feasting on the hippo, and the carcass is nearly clean. Vultures wait impatiently on the ground and in the trees. A lioness gets so annoyed with their presence that she kills one of the scavengers to send a message. The menacing birds back off as the stench of the rotting carcass fills the warming air. Their turn will come soon enough.
The bush camps are rustic, intimate and open-air. Community is created easily over sundowners, teatime, and the three scrumptious meals served each day expertly. There are never more than six to eight other people joining us at the dining room table. Over dinner, we listen to each other's answers to questions like, "What was the best thing you saw today…What is your favorite animal?"
At lunch, we meet Beth, Ben, Rob, and Chris. They are seasoned safari goers, and their favorite country is Zambia. They are thoroughly British--loving animals more than people. Beth and Ben's wedding was in Horse & Hound Magazine. She shows us one of the published wedding photos where she is galloping on her horse in a shallow river, with her white wedding dress flying behind her. It's romantic and rugged all at once. Brian and I love listening to their stories, and in the evening, Rob tells us of his father's harrowing escape from Nazi Germany in 1937 and how, against all odds, he made it to England as a young man. When I ask him if he was raised Jewish, Rob replies, "No, I was raised English."
After dinner, Brian is the game warden of our room, catching crickets as long as his ring finger and tiny, moss-colored frogs. He uses a bar glass to release the misplaced creatures gently outside our room. There are no windows or doors in our beautiful hut. We climb into our king-size bed, pull the mosquito netting together, and sleep as peacefully as the baby baboons in the trees all around us.
Each day we play to the same rhythm. We wake at dawn, eat a light breakfast, walk through the bush to find animals doing what they do naturally, have a sumptuous brunch with travelers from around the world, enjoy a three-hour siesta, jump in the Land Rover for an afternoon drive, drink sundowners, and then head back to camp for a perfectly prepared meal, like Mongolian stir-fry, Zambian barbecue, or chicken skewers over vegetable rice.
Brian and I love walking safaris. Around every corner, there's a mystery and then a surprise. At KaPamba, our second bush camp, we watch a herd of elephants cross the river. To avoid being trampled by them, we cross the river to the opposite bank to make our way. Our guide Charles asks us to take off our shoes. We carefully wade in the water. Brian says, “Are there crocodiles in here?” “No, but stay in a single file line because there is quicksand,” Charles warns.
Over the next eight days, we move from camp to camp, ending at Kuyenda, where Christina’s legendary stepfather Phil was an owner and guide. There, we meet Wendy Dunn, head chef for The Bushcamp Company. She’s been doing the rounds, teaching the kitchen staff how to make delicious food with vegan, vegetarian, and gluten-free options. I've benefited greatly, being treated to melt-in-your-mouth orange sponge cake topped with warm orange sauce, buttery scones, crepes, and even pizza—all gluten-free.
On our last night in the bush, we are surprised to see a small barbecue and a bar set up in the shallow water. Brian and I suddenly realize that this sundowner setting is for us. We take off our shoes and wade in to find camp chairs facing the sunset. Elephants have gathered at the water's edge, and a hyena slinks on the banks as we drink gin and tonics and eat skewers of pork sausage and pineapple, grilled chicken drumettes, and crispy yucca chips with sweet red chili sauce. It's so romantic that I feel like I've received a rose and a special one-on-one date with "The Bachelor."
We awake to another gorgeous sunrise, campfire, and coffee in the morning. After we say our goodbyes to the staff, we are off on an exhilarating drive, highlighted by plenty of game viewing. A leopard walks right next to our vehicle. She is so close Brian can reach down and pet her. Instead, we sit stunned, trying to take in the impossibility of such a close encounter.
When we pull up to Mfuwe Lodge, Brian and I are greeted by the spa staff, who take us to spa rooms overlooking a large lagoon. "Don't worry about your bags. They will be taken to your chalet," my therapist says cheerfully. After a delicious massage, dinner, and a meaningful live performance by one of the country's most celebrated theater companies, we feel nourished and ready for our next adventure.
