OK guys,” he says, “You don’t have to take sooooo many pictures of the springboks,” laughing while he turns back and gives us a white-toothed smirk. “We are going to see plenty more.” We’ve only just crossed the front gate of the lodge, and the little antelopes are lifting their heads like startled children (or minions as our group has dubbed them). Following the dirt road, a warthog mom and her two babies dart in front of us, and various types of bovidae are spotted. The proud elond males with their twisted Maleficent horns and perked-out red ears, and the handsomely built male kudu seem ready to flee from danger.
Our safari guide encourages going at our own pace, but we learn all too soon that when he chats in his Walkie-Talkie, and calmly suggests that we continue on, he has good reason. While taking thousands of giraffe and zebra photos (the two species look out for one another), we give David the go-ahead to move on. He peels out of there, dodging branches as we fly through a fresh rainfall, smacking away poor insects along the way.
Southern Yellow billed Hornbill
“You’re next David,” we overhear on the radio. We pull up to see in the glowing orange sun a family of elephants cooling off in a watering hole. “It’s like a zoo, but real life,” someone said in the car. And we laugh at the stupidity of such a statement. But I’ve never been on a safari, and as a zebra runs by, I realize that it wasn’t an ignorant statement at all…it’s true!
Happy with our sightings, we roll ahead, and David shushes us and makes sure we’re all seated (this rule seems to be the most challenging for many in my group). In front of us is a female lion sound asleep, with paws up, and tail wagging, and, next to her, a male is walking toward a zebra carcass. Bright red like a bull’s eye, the male devours thin strips of black-and-white flesh. After the male falls back into a post-Thanksgiving dinner sleep, two brothers jaunt over, and they begin finishing the meal. We’re no more than six or seven feet from this family, and the backdrop of the late-afternoon sun over a small lake is a familiar picture in my head. This scene, depicted in cartoons, postcards, movies, and Discovery Channel specials, is nothing compared to this real-life experience.
Massive spotlights point us back to the lodge, waving like a movie premiere to the lit-up Jaci’s Lodges sign. The staff once again welcomes us with a drink, we sit around the yellow Spanishstyle fireplace. Like kids who swear they just saw a monster, we recall our adventure with machine gun speed to anyone who will listen. A teacup-lit table is set up for us already near an outdoor fire pit, still high-above the trees, and the chef serves a three-course meal that’s an ideal ending to the day. I also get to sit with Jaci herself, who talks a little about her life in the bush and raising her two kids here. “We moved to the Reserve from Pretoria where Jan and his brother owned and ran their two restaurants,” she tells me over our vegetarian options. She and her husband met on Bazaruto Island, Mozambique, and Jaci knew that “city life” wasn’t for her. “He promised me we would live in the bush, and boy did he deliver! We have been living in Madikwe since 1994.” Just one year before her boys were born the lodge had already existed, but Jaci’s tree houses were a vision that she and her husband made a reality.
In my bed feeling like a tent caterpillar in mosquito-net-covered cocoon, I get up and double check the lock and drift off to tales of the lion and the sounds of night creatures.
