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Wherefore and Why I've never been known for taking the kind of trips many people my age do. I've never lain on a beach in Cancun and drank pina colodas, and I've never been to a Club Med. I don't take vacations to relax: instead, I seek culture and adventure. If it's not viewing the economic hardship in Eastern Europe, then it's traveling through Europe, South America, Canada or the United States at a breakneck pace. I planned to follow the same demanding itinerary in Australia and The Orient last summer; I even placed a down payment on the trip--until I heard Julian, a South African travel agent who had come to speak to my ninth grade class about Africa. I had never had more than a passing interest in Africa: I had seen the film Born Free as a child, watched a respectable amount of National Geographic specials about the wildlife there, and will admit to loving the line "I had a farm in Africa..." from the film Out of Africa, but the truth is, I was as much a victim of the propaganda one sees about Africa on CNN as most other Americans. Why visit a continent that is continually associated with negative issues such as apartheid, hunger, poverty, malaria, AIDS, unstable governments, and political uprisings? These feelings subsided though as I watched Julian's slide presentation. As he projected image after image of the wildlife he encountered there, I became enraptured. Africa already had its hold on me, and I was committed to going there. Although it was only October, I handed Julian my credit card and asked him to reserve a place for me in the summer. I never wavered in my decision to embark on an African camping safari, even though I heard nothing but disapproving remarks. My students certainly offered no encouragement: "There are poor people dying of diseases there. Why do you want to go?" My family also hoped that I would come to my senses. My brother laughed and said that he would think of me as he lay in the sun in Mexico, deliberating about whether to order the margarita or the daiquiri at the swim-up-bar. Instead of becoming discouraged, I became more committed in my decision. I learned a great deal about Africa from a variety of sources. I began with articles gleaned from the history department about apartheid and Nelson Mandela. I rented documentaries about the six countries I would be visiting, African safaris, and African history at the county library. I viewed articles about Eastern and Southern Africa on The Complete National Geographic on CD-ROM, and I rented The African Queen and Cry the Beloved Country. I read Hemingway's Green Hills of Africa and contrasted it with Carrol Baker's To Africa With Love and then David Ewing Duncan's From Cape to Cairo: An African Odyssey, a personal narrative about a man who traveled the length of the continent on a bicycle. I called Julian and asked for some specific advice about safety concerns, and also spoke to Steve Michaelchuck, a fellow teacher and a seasoned camper, about which camping equipment to purchase. I acquired three necessary visas, had the proper inoculations, and secured enough malaria tablets to protect myself for the duration of the trip. By January, I had paid off my Visa bill and was able to begin saving for my now coveted African safari. Although I had chosen to camp to save money, the trip still cost me a great deal. The airfare alone was $1,476; the land cost was almost $2,400; visas were $200, and vaccines and malaria tablets were $300. I spent about $400 more on camping equipment and another $400 on hiking boots, clothes, and toiletries. I brought along $800 in spending money, charged $900 on my credit card for optional excursions, and added another $1,000 to the cost when I extended my trip. To pay the final cost of almost $7,900, I used the money I earned as a waitress at Cap'n Cats, a local seafood restaurant. Every Friday and Saturday night as I served steamed crab legs and fresh, shucked clams and oysters to hungry patrons, I told myself that all my hard work would be worth it in the summer, and I was right. I never felt any anxiety about the trip until my brother drove me to New York's JFK Airport. As we made our way north on the turnpike, I worried about the chance of getting diarrhea, malaria, the e-bola virus, yellow fever, bilharzia, sleeping sickness, and AIDS. I worried about the weather and how I was going to manage to put up my tent. I worried about encountering the big five: elephant, rhino, lion, buffalo, and leopard. I worried about homesickness and about facing a world that Joseph Conrad described in The Heart of Darkness. My mother told me that she did not think I would last the five weeks, but I knew that coming home early would not be an option. We would be traveling through remote areas in an overland vehicle and easy transport back to South Africa would be difficult. I knew that as my brother left me alone to face the fifteen and a half hour flight that what lay ahead would certainly be an adventure, one that I hoped I would survive. |
