Tanzania: 2005
Gin and tonic on the Kwando River Caprivi strip.
the kit, with enough water and provisions for
the four-day trek. I was yet to see the azure
blue of Sandwich Harbor and the pink string
of flamingos that waded in the shallows as
we crested that last dune and eased our way
down the steep slope to the salt water waves
lapping the golden sands. They were sands
deposited over eons of time from the Orange
River far to the south and swept up the coast
in the waters of the Benguela Current.
There would be nights, just after the civil
war, sleeping on the Mozambique beach of
the Indian Ocean. We had no tents. This
was a latrine-digging Spartan adventure. I
woke in the warming rays of the rising sun,
the grit of sand in my teeth, the smell of the
ocean dank in my nostrils, as I pulled back
my bedroll and rose to the cacophony of
native voices...
I was intrigued by a large group of locals
- men, women and children - going through
their daily subsistence ritual of pulling a
sein net in a large semi-circle through the
shallows, while another mob attempted
to herd whatever aquatic life they could
into the approaching trap. I, too, would
be fishing, but we had brought a boat
from Nelspruit in South Africa, crossing
the border at Komatipoort, heading east
to Maputo and then north along the coast
to Vilanculos, towing the boat the last few
miles across a sand track shaded by a forest
of palm trees. The sand track began at the
end of a bombed-out, pock-marked tar road
lined with burnt-out tanks and military
vehicles, all civil war relics. There would be
a fishing safari for dorado and kingklip, an
invitation from a South African “cowboy” I
had met at an SCI show in Las Vegas.
Each time I return to Africa, I have a
sensation that says, “I am here where I ought to
be.” There is a magic to Africa, a deep-seated,
gut feeling that is life-altering. When not in
Africa, never has a day gone by since that firsttrip that I do not think of it. I miss the people,
the sights and sounds, the smells, and the feel
of Africa.
I am nearing 1,000 safari days as I write
this. The 31 days I have booked for this year
will put me over that threshold, not that it
was ever a conscious goal. Those will be days
filled with excitement, laughter, wonder,
expectation, adventure and surprises. Those
days will be here and gone before I know
it. The anticipation of this trip is nearly
as enjoyable as the realization will be. It is
always that way.
Famed author and lover of Africa, Karen
Blixen noted: “If there were one more thing
I could do, it would be to go on Safari once
again”.I know exactly what she meant!A 65-year-old Municipal Securities Banker,
Jeffery shares two grown sons with his
understanding wife of 35 years, Betsy. He
grew up (sort of ) in NE Wisconsin. Realizing
at a very early age that his eyes faced forward
for a reason, he spent most of his non-school
hours chasing and catching all types of edible
creatures.