The night had passed with the groans of lions around the campsite and baboons going crazy about their presence. I heard elephants break down trees and an owl was making its usual nocturnal sounds.
When a lady set down a plate with coffee outside my tent and woke me up, I only heard bird sounds.
This morning began with a quiet cup of coffee, the serene forest in front of my tent stretching out like a peaceful dream. The air was crisp, a reminder of the cold that had seeped through the night—much colder than I had anticipated. I bundled up in two layers of sweaters as we gathered for an early morning game drive, the Land Rover rumbling to life as it rolled onto the sandy tracks once more.
The sun, they said, had risen during our drive, but a thin veil of clouds kept it hidden from view. Our driver, David, and ranger, Philip, were determined to track the elusive leopard spotted near our campsite the previous night. Philip quickly found fresh footprints—both the leopard’s and those of a group of hyenas, fleeing the scene.
We ventured into a dry, narrow riverbed, so tight that even two Land Rovers would have struggled to pass side by side. Despite combing through vast stretches of land, the leopard remained elusive, leaving no trace of itself or its recent kill.
The radio crackled with news of a lion sighting reported by another vehicle. We veered off the track, weaving through dry trees and tall grass until we suddenly halted—just five feet from a pride of lions lounging in the shade. It was a breathtaking moment, the sheer proximity to such powerful creatures sending a thrill through me.
Halfway through the tour, David pulled over and set up a small table, offering us a much-needed break with coffee or tea. The rest of the drive felt like a quiet search for wildlife, most of which seemed to be hiding today. We did, however, spot a few giraffes gracefully gathered at a water dam.
Back at Honeyguide Camp, new guests had arrived, weary from their flight straight from London. They seemed dazed, perhaps not fully grasping how close they were to the untamed wilderness. I realized then that I might be one of the youngest visitors here, surrounded mostly by older couples, many celebrating anniversaries or honeymoons. Their awe at the wildlife was palpable, but for me, it felt more like a homecoming—a subtle reminder of my early years spent in Indonesia.
The day passed swiftly. After a quick nap, I joined ranger Chris for a one-hour foot safari around the campsite. Chris’s knowledge of the local flora and fauna was impressive, and I learned more in that short walk than I ever expected.
Lunch was at 3 p.m., and before long, we were back in the trucks for a sunset drive through the reserve. Though it might seem like all we did was drive, each journey was something I eagerly awaited, the anticipation building as the Rover returned to camp each time.
I took my usual spot at the front, wrapped in sweaters, bracing for the chill that would come as the sun dipped toward the horizon. As the sun sank, the landscape transformed, bathed in hues of yellow and magenta. Even the buffalo herd seemed to take on a new glow in the fading light—brilliant and surreal.
As night fell, Philip’s flashlight caught the glint of eyes in the grass—a lioness, separated from her pride, likely in search of a mate. Her low, guttural calls sent shivers through me, the sound resonating deep in my bones. This was no TV documentary with its polished soundtracks—this was raw, real, and happening in the stillness of the African night.
Dinner was another culinary delight, the new cook outdoing themselves with each course. I was exhausted by the end of it, yet the day wasn’t quite over. The rangers, flashlights in hand, escorted us back to our tents.
At my tent, the ranger suddenly halted. He instructed me to snap a picture into the darkness with my camera’s flash. The result? A pair of eyes reflecting back at us—the leopard, now on the move. We heard it slipping away into the night, the rustle of grass the only sound as it departed.
Before I zipped up my tent, the ranger reminded me to secure it tightly and wished me a good night’s sleep. I’m sure you can imagine how well I slept after all that…
Good night, Manyeleti.
Ramon.
