Story: OUTHOUSES AND ICEPACKS: 24 Hours on Safari with a Klutz

You have romantic dreams of safari in Africa, but do you know the reality if you happen to be an over the hill klutz? My daughter and I traveled to Kenya in August to see World Vision children and managed a budget safari along the way. We had many incredible sightings of animals, but those you can read anywhere. I invite you to share with me some realities of safari life.

The Masai Mara in Kenya is the most sensational place in Africa to see the big game, and July and August are the best times because of the migration of the wildebeast. We had only one full day in the Mara, and our driver George had given us a choice between a morning and a separate evening drive, or an all day drive. My adult daughter is a lot tougher than I am, but we had sheepishly asked each other about the BIG BATHROOM DEBATE. I had already had a shaky toilet in Ethiopia fall over and crash to the floor, flooding our tiny room and potentially the entire hotel, so I had legitimate reasons for my bathroom insecurities. However, this adventure far away from even the shakiest of toilets was an even more elemental quandary, and my daughter and I shared similar misgivings about lowering our pants in "public." My pants were especially reluctant due to arthritis, pounds of extra flesh and not a single deep knee bend in the last twenty years. We finally got up our nerve to ask George about, uh, what facilities would be available (Don't laugh, we really knew the answer to the question, but a girl can still hope, right?), and he said the only bathroom would be the bush, of course. Gulp. I mean I have these bashful kidneys, and I knew the bush would inspire that bashfulness. But we knew we would have a better chance of seeing more and different animals if we were able to travel farther.

H-mmm, what to do? Animals or dignity? Dignity or animals?

We decided we could not come this far and not get as much of an African experience as possible ( though we were excluding the bush potty break from our enthusiasm), so we threw caution to the winds and became daring bladder adventurers. We drove about three hours, and passing many lions and giraffes, so that George was bored with our wanting to stop to take pictures of them, George says in an authoritarian way, "Bathroom break." My daughter and I just looked at each other and both answered in unison though honest doubt, "We're fine." Unfortunately, the power of suggestion is not a welcome thing in a situation like this. George looked very skeptical, but got out of the car and disappeared behind a rather small and see through bush. I averted my eyes, closed them for good measure, tried not to imagine his naked body inches away, cursed the male anatomical advantage, and tried to follow the unspoken etiquette of the bush. Emily Post, where are you when I need you? “To go or not to go, that is the question.” (With apologies to Will.)

I had been so worried about a disastrous bush bathroom experience that I wore khaki pants and had an extra pair of khaki pants in my day bag, so I could somehow discreetly change (not sure how) if it became obvious I was too darn klutzy to squat successfully or squatted successfully but then lost my non-existent balance and fell over, mooning the startled animals as I tumbled—a little people safari tour for them. “Animals of the Mara, are you looking for a great tour of the most eccentric animals of the world? Watch for people creatures with bare bottoms rolling through the bush.”

Our second day in the Mara we left at 8:00AM and reached the Serengeti border about noon. There standing before us, like the Taj Mahal of the bush, was a glorious, glorious, most beautiful outhouse in the world, so, exulting as I went, I never needed those extra khaki pants or the see through bush. It was a splendid experience of absolute relief. I would not have been any happier in a Luxury Hilton as I heard monkeys scamper on the roof. (I did hope they weren't TOO curious.) Luxury is definitely over-rated. A hand carved wooden seat over a hole in the ground is more than sufficient... if not quite so delightful to the olfactory sense.

If we had not dared to travel so far, we would not have seen our only cheetah of our two weeks in Africa. There she was, looking absolutely regal just sitting by a bush, seemingly oblivious to the vehicles gathering around her as we all paid homage to this queen of the bush. Her cubs were in the bush, but just would not appear for us. I was disappointed, but I couldn't really blame them for not cooperating with a bunch of tourists. I took about a dozen pictures of the bush, hoping that at home, I would be able to zoom in and find the babies in my pictures. Alas, there is no good picture, but an occasional image shows only tufts of fur or two pairs of eyes looking back. We saw them before we stopped to eat our lunch, so when we began the drive home, we looked for the family again. We found the same group, they had moved to a different bush, but the vigilant mama still had her cubs hidden carefully in the camouflage of the new bush.

Here after our four hour drive is where we saw our only hippos. They looked like veritable couch potatoes of the bush in spite of their vicious reputations. They had muddy and clumsy brown bodies tinged with bright pink as if some wandering fashion guru took pity on them and began a makeover but gave up in frustration. Alongside the hippos in the African river were the only crocodiles we saw also. The two beasts of the river looked indolent and harmless, but they had nefarious intentions—well, nefarious from the point of view of the ubiquitous wildebeasts. It is here the wildebeasts in their migration must cross the river. You see them in long processions across the Mara lined up sometimes single file in an endless parade of dark bison looking bodies. But here they must cross the river, and they know from some archetypal dread that danger awaits them. We saw them charging across the plains, full of confidence and bravado, and we saw them begin to charge and scramble down the banks in the great cloud of dust which they stirred up. Suddenly, as if on one accord, the great animals put on their massive brakes and tried to stop short of the very river they seek because they spotted the hippos and the crocodiles. They stumbled and hesitated, but then then charged on, as if they know they can't go around it, they have to go through it, no matter the hungry, hungry crocodiles in their path. Some of the safari goers were hoping they would see a kill as a croc pulled a wildebeast under the water in their relentless jaws, but I was cheering for the wildebeasts and was happy to witness that all the ones in this group made it across.

After another five hour bladder olympics, we crossed the finish line and got back to the lodge at 5:30 PM and tried not to look too obvious as we rushed for real flush toilets. I don't think our driver thought we could do it, we hung tough, we kept our pounds of flesh private, and we were so glad we gambled on our kidneys. FYI, some of the nicer safaris actually will provide small porta potties they will set up for you, but usually it is between you and a bush while others wait in line for the bush. My bashful kidneys would have a total meltdown with all that near and present pressure.

That very night, I fell out of bed. Did I tell you I was a klutz? I thought sure it was in a very narrow bed in one of those little hole in the wall places we had stayed in for all of $8 a night, so I was claiming that line, but my daughter swears it was in this nice lodge with a large and normal bed. Darn. So in the middle of the night, I fall out of bed and hit my cheekbone really hard on the nightstand next to the bed. I do remember being tangled in the mosquito net, but before I really even woke up, I am lying there on the floor crying. My daughter hears me and sits up and says, "Mom, are you really lying on the floor crying?" Her question wakes me up, and I mutter, “Uh, I think so, but I hope not.” Next I see her face as she pulls the mosquito nets aside to view her rather pathetic looking mother in an undignified heap on the floor.

Fortunately, she had brought one of those instant ice packs that don't have to be refrigerated; you just bend them and they activate. I really think I came very close to breaking my cheekbone and had a whopping bruise that covered one side of my face more and more over the next couple of days (you know, the blood drains down). From then on, people looked at me with great curiosity and even respect, as if this old lady must have had a very dramatic and close encounter with some large and scary wild animal. Well, I wasn't going to tell the truth--the old lady fell out of her own bed (in a lodge) for no darn good reason. So I just smiled bravely, crinkling up my bruise, and let them wonder. I may have never told the truth except my daughter wouldn't let me get away with a more impressive story of my close encounter with a fierce beast of the wild. We had many wonderful adventures when we went to Africa, but two of the most memorable are still the wondrous outhouse and the priceless ice pack. So when you are privileged to go to Africa, gamble on your kidneys and take an ice pack in case you fall out of bed on your safari....