Going on safari in Tanzania during the pandemic

 Photos and Article by Tony Mangia

Anticipation ran high the morning we loaded up two tan-colored, over-sized Landcruisers with gear and 11 passengers (all volunteers in Tanzania), two chefs and our guides at the start of our safari excursion to Serengeti National Park from a hostel in Arusha.

Our Tanzanian driver and guide was Ali, an amiable man with a seemingly vast knowledge of the park and the scores of wildlife we we all expected to see over the next four days.

Ali told us it was dry season on the Serengeti plains and that many of the giant herds (like wildebeest) were still making their way south from Kenya, but, outside the scarcity of some breeds, we should be able to see the Big Five — specifically lions, rhinos, elephants, leopards and water buffaloes. Ever the antagonist, I questioned why the buffalo were part of this esteemed bunch — and not cheetahs or hippos — but there they were listed along the top guns.

Our volunteer organization, IVHQ, booked our safari with Tanzanian Host Experience and introduced Ali and another guide, who went by the solo moniker, Johnson, to us two nights before the trip during an orientation on what was included (tents, sleeping bags, three meals and 1-1/2 liters of water per day), what we should bring (jackets, snacks and cameras), what facilities the campsite had (toilets and showers) and what we could expect to see (The Big Five). The cost — $700USD per person.

The pair expressed optimism about the dry-season weather and prospects for animal sightings, but apologized about the natural absence of the dramatic wildebeest migration at this time of the year. Most of the migratory herds were were still heading south from Kenya.

No apology was necessary for Mother Nature's ways.

But times were tough in Tanzania — as they were around the world — because of COVID. Financial hardships for the safari workers over the past two seasons was something they couldn't control. The virus had kept visitors away and dwindled safari tourism down to almost a fraction of what it normally is. I heard the same sad refrain while climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro two weeks earlier, when my guide, Michael, said his crew was also feeling the pinch. He told me he usually led two trek parties a month, but that my solo climb was his first in over six months.

Ali told us that this was his first safari outing since March. And being that we were headed into October, it was a sobering timetable of how long COVID is affecting different people and various economies all over the world.

We set out on our comfortable 8-hour drive from Arusha with stops to pick up snacks and see the giant crater at the Ngorongoro Conservation Area. It is heart of the Masai tribe region and gateway to the sub-Saharan plains leading to Serengeti. When Ali pointed out a small heard of wildebeest at the crater’s lake in the distance, the swell of excitement almost raised the vehicle’s retractable roof by itself. It was especially uplifting after our cruiser overheated on a steep incline and each of us passengers each donated water from our bottles.

“Our one-and-a-half liter ration of hydration just became a half,” I joked, to a couple of sighs, and before the steaming cruiser moved on.

It wasn’t long after we entered Serengeti National Park before we spotted a pride of lions and a couple of young adults sitting on a towering rock looking down over the landscape like some still shot out of The Lion King.

We were stoked for the next day to start after numerous giraffes and zebras seemed to welcome us into the park before we finally arrived at the sparsely populated campsite at dusk. The long ride was already worth it.

We had dinner — spaghetti bolognese and warmed pineapple slices slathered in Masai honey for desert — before I took a walk around the campsite under an amazingly clear sky. While lying down outside my tent to stare at the twinkling canopy of stars, the sound of hyenas making these haunting sounds — a mixture of laughing and yelping — surrounded the camp. In between upward glances at the Milky Way, I turned towards the chilling calls on all sides.  Ali warned us about the hyenas, but assured us that they were more snarl than harm and wouldn’t approach anyone, but that did little to curb my apprehension — especially when I shined my headlamp into the neighboring brush and could see all these unblinking red eyes watching me back. 

Despite Ali's Hakuna Matata (no problem) attitude, I slept with my Leatherman knife blade out on my bed anyway.

There was a 5 am breakfast of crepes and fruit before we headed out for a sunrise safari the next day.  

We raised the retractable roof and the smells and sounds of a Serengeti morning filled the vehicle as the sun came up. All twelve eyes inside our cruiser were peeled on the horizon searching for anything that moved. In the distance a hot air balloon made its way across the new sun-splashed plains before hovering above a herd of elephants.

From a distance we could see the matron of the parade move towards the balloon’s basket and wave its trunk at the humans inside. A gesture that could have meant hello as easy as go away. Either or, it made for some fantastic photos.

Later, after a picnic lunch on a dried up river bank, we got up close and personal with a pride of lions — with about a dozen cubs — lounging around, indifferent to our close proximity, and more interested in hiding from the sun under a lone umbrella-shaped tree in the middle of nowhere. We got so close to the cubs, yet felt no danger from the blasé moms, that it was almost impossible to not fantasize about jumping out of the vehicle to scratch their fuzzy ears.

We continued our safari, spotting dozens of giraffes, water buffalo, zebra, ostriches and lots of cheetahs. There was an amazing encounter with an angry elephant bull who blocked the road and swirled the end of his trunk in the dirt as warning to us as his pack crossed. 

The real action started when Ali got a call on the radio that a rhino was spotted (pretty rare during the dry season) and we bolted from a group of giraffes (becoming pretty common now) to a spot about 20 minutes away where there was already about a dozen other safari parties.

The rhino was about a half mile on a ridge and hard to see, but luckily I had my 400mm telephoto lens and was able to get a few snapshots. There are strict penalties for safari vehicles — besides humans — to venture off the dirt roads to get close to the animals, so we watched the two-horned black rhino from afar.

It was quite a scene as more vehicles showed up and, like some dust-clouded, motorized desert caravan, followed its slow movement as it grazed across the horizon. 

All that was left to see of the Big Five in their natural habitat was the elusive leopard.

Then it was off the main road, towards a large water hole filled with hippos. There was a wooden railing (To keep humans at bay) constructed alongside a small cliff about 20-feet from the water’s edge. It’s a pretty well known fact that hippos are aggressive mammals and kill more people than any other animals in Africa. Like rush hour on the NYC subways I remember, they huddled together amicably, then suddenly jostled another for more room in their cramped watery space. Come to think of it, the water hole smelled like the subway too.

After dinner — a delicious fried fish stew that we devoured like a pack of hyenas — and intermediate wi-fi connections to social media, there was a campfire and the social chatter it brings. We rehashed our day and hoped we would get to see a leopard on our way out of the park — thus completing the Big Five.

At breakfast in the mess tent, there were excited murmurs coming from some of the campers about a lion last night — that someone had heard loud growling. 

Ali confirmed the rumor as true and said a couple of curious lionesses had passed through — probably searching for their coalition. I slept right through it. He then went on to tell us about a water buffalo that was attacked and dragged through the same campsite last year by half-a-dozen lions one morning. He pointed to the spot by the kitchen where the lone beast was felled and then tugged away. When asked what the campers did, Ali laughed and said they all grabbed their cell phones to take photos. I was guessing he saved that grisly story for last day for a reason.

And I probably would have slept through that too since I found myself more astonished that morning by another wardrobe change by the young ladies in the other cruiser. While I wore the same clothes (one shirt change) for the whole trip, it seemed they had three different outfits for each day, and hundreds of selfies to prove it. I scratched my head trying to figure out where they stored more attire than a Vogue photo shoot.

Anyway, before we made our last exit from the campsite Saturday morning, I could see the campsite start to fill up with tents for the weekend. And, although I usually hate crowds, it was heartening to see other tourists and vehicles because it meant that tour workers, park rangers and the animals, respectively, could all benefit from the injection of more tourist money into the economy.

The final drive out of the park was almost as eventful as the other three days. There were more hippos, lions and elephants, before, over the radio, we heard exuberant chatter that a leopard had been spotted by another group.

Ali turned and told us to all sit tight, then made a beeline for the tree our spotted recluse was reportedly napping in. I don’t know how Ali navigated to the correct location, but, after a dusty, bumpy 30-minute ride, we got to see (with a little eye-squinting) the beautiful beast almost completely camouflaged on the thick tree branch, oblivious to the vehicles, open-mouthed people and clicking cameras below. Only a trained safari guide would have been able to spot it in a single glance from the road.

So just like that — the Big Five!

Nearing the park's eastern gate, and still in the brushy flatlands, a cheetah jumped onto the cab of the other open-roofed cruiser in front of us, on top of its occupants and in full view of us. While the speedy cat's action was more out of finding a higher vantage point to look for prey, rather than some sweet goodbye gesture, we accepted it as a parting gift.

And what a fine farewell it was.

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