By Dorothy K. LaMantia | Correspondent
It had been a long, wonderful but exhausting day, and another one lay ahead with an early wake-up call. Yet at 11:30 p.m., I was wide awake – too frightened to sleep.
My husband and I were fulfilling a dream to visit the Serengeti, to see the annual migration of wildebeest and zebra as they crossed the Mara River in Tanzania, and to see Africa’s Big Five – lions, leopards, hippopotamus, rhinoceros and giraffe – on their own turf.
Earlier that evening, we arrived at the second of three campsites we would visit on our nine-day safari – and were unnerved to see we would be staying in a tent.
At our first stop near the Ngorongoro Crater, our tent was cabin-like – crafted out of wood, steel and glass with doors and windows that locked. Known in the travel industry as glamour-camping, these state-of- the-art structures are called tents – which a hardy, old-fashioned camper would find laughable.
This camp could have passed for the studio lot of the TV comedy “M*A*S*H*” with its canvas tents, fabric screens and zippers to separate inside from out. We did not expect this.
Our hosts, members of the Maasai tribe who have made the Serengeti their home for centuries, explained the cardinal rules of camp – no leaving the tent without an escort after dark, call for an escort with the walkie-talkie, and for help in an emergency, use the foghorn.
Our enthusiasm dampened as we scurried to cover all openings – we didn’t want our four-legged hosts to see us as they ambled about their nightly routine.
We turned out the lights, but I could not turn off my imagination and its litany of “what- if’s.”
Needing sleep badly and anticipating the day ahead without it, I reckoned that all I could do was trust God to keep me calm and get me to sleep – a challenge for a worry-wart like me. I prayed for safety and for trust. Imagining Mary holding my hand, I breathed slowly and kept my focus on her hand in my own. Sleep came, then was interrupted by an argument among the baboons in a nearby tree. A return to my prayerful state of mind calmed me again to sleep.
By morning, I was refreshed. I felt like I passed a test and met the day with relief and gladness. The unzipping of the tent’s door revealed an unforgettably glorious sunrise.
But the lessons had only begun.
On our morning drive, we became acquainted with the miles of grasses stippled in muted tones of yellow, brown and green against calm blue skies. The Massai gave the land the name “Serengeti,” meaning, “endless plains.” Photography from NASA help estimate the plains measure 12,000 square miles. Seated in the back of a Jeep, I felt small.
When the Jeep stopped, the ears enjoyed a holiday from extraneous sound, broken only by the calls of birds. But the silence teemed with vibration of all that is hidden in those grasses. Suddenly, birds of the most vibrant colors or tiny mammals showed up, evoking excitement that comes from experiencing something truly new.
I imagined it was much like the newness of Creation. Not far from the plains is the Olduvai Gorge, where the oldest human remains were found in 1986. “We’re near Eden,” I thought. I found the place holy in its simplicity, and I was moved to pray.
I opened my breviary to the morning Psalm: “How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you have made them all. The earth is full of your creatures.” I smiled. Even the Universal Church was celebrating Creation with us that day.
Our guides – all indigenous people – shared the secrets of this Eden, the interplay of species, like the mutuality of the African buffalo and the oxpecker, a bird that stands on the buffalo’s back and eats insects crawling there, keeping it safe from infections. When the bird flies off its back, the buffalo learns that a predator is near. The nasty-sounding dung beetle eats the dung of other species – and keeps the environment clean and livable. When a lion attacks a gazelle, a number of different species can eat and survive.
I reflected on this lesson God provided all Creation: All living things are to live in community and have a role in its existence and a stake in others’ survival.
I thought about the Maasai and the protection they showed us – escorting us to our tents after dark, appearing when something was amiss. Around the evening campfires they shared their stories, teaching us about their way of life and making us feel at home. Around their dinner tables we sat with other guests from around the world, and for that time, we enjoyed being part of God’s family.
On our last drive through the park, I prayed the Psalm from my breviary, “You have gladdened me, O Lord, by your deeds; for the work of your hands I shout with joy. O Lord, how great are your works!” Just then, a dove hovered over the Jeep.
Dorothy K. LaMantia is a parishioner of St. Mary Parish, Barnegat.