African Game Drive

I am afraid to breathe. The last bit of light has melted from the sky and the world is inky black. A light breeze rustles over my face and arms.

“Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t turn on your light.”

Blind, my eyes scan for shadows, outlines, movement. I twist my head toward the staccato snap of a branch to my left.

A low hiss, “Don’t move.” This time the accented words are urgent and full with fear.

My heart is racing, at once excited and terrified. I wonder, in the corner of my mind still capable of wonder, if lions play with their food.

Today is my 8th night in South Africa. I’m sitting in a Land Rover with no doors or roof; a few soft leather seats surrounded by a roll cage. Anders, a serious blonde young man of Dutch descent is directly to my right. We’ve wound our way through tufted foxtail buffalo grass and Rover-high yellow thatching grass. We’ve been spoiled by impala, giraffe, zebra, cape buffalo, and elephants stripping marula trees. This night, as the heat dissipates and the veld glows red with sunset, we come upon a small herd of impala. Anders turns off the Rover.

“See how the calves knot up behind the adults? A predator is near.”

We wait. The impala snort and blow, clearing their nostrils and turning their noses to the wind. Darkness falls.

A branch snaps again, this time closer. I master the urge to turn. All week long Anders promised lions. Now, I’m suddenly unclear why I wanted to see them so badly.

“I’m getting the light,” Anders whispers.

I hear the switch click a second before the world lights up. Inches away, on my left, the head and shoulders of a lioness rest just above the side of the Rover. She blinks in the sudden bright light and her whiskers twitch forward. Slowly, she turns and looks directly at me. Behind me, Anders sucks in his breath.

Lazily, she opens her mouth wide and shuts her eyes. Canines, yellow with age, shine in the light. I stare, on the edge of panic, trying to sit still and remember to breathe. The lioness looks forward, stands, and slowly stretches out into downward dog, tail curling behind me. Her muscles knot, she straightens, and with one more look, strolls out of the light.

Anders lets out a long sigh. The world comes rushing back in. I look around, neck stiff with tension. The impala are gone. I meet Anders’s eyes and laugh wildly with relief and amazement.

“I told you we’d see lions,” he says, reaching forward to start the Rover, a grin spreading across his face.