OUT OF AFRICA
Sleeping in a tent with a half million wildebeest nearby on the short grass plains of Africa's Serengeti is like sleeping next to an eight-lane freeway at rush hour - with all the cars honking their horns.
The incessant snorts and grunts of the vast herds vibrate the leaves off the trees which fall like rain on the tent. They are punctuated by the whistling barks of thousands of zebras, and interrupted by the cackling cry of hyenas on a kill. One hyena pack's cries are so close they must be less than 100 feet away.
In the short breaks of silence when the hyenas cease and the wildebeest resume, there are lions coughing in the distance.
With the coming of dawn, things quiet down. The wildebeest and zebras emerge out of the relative safety of the trees where we are camped and onto the plains the Masai call endless - for that is what Serengeti means in their tribal language, "endless plains."
I have had no contact with the outside world now for going on two weeks. Not a single phone call or email, not a newspaper or short-wave radio. I'll be posting this once I reach the town of Arusha, which is the jumping-off spot for safaris to the Serengeti, but as of now I haven't the faintest idea of what's been happening in the world.
The world seems very far away from where I am writing this, on the veranda of my tent with a plain of endless grass spread before me, countless black dots of munching wildebeest covering the dark green all the way to the horizon.
It seems a perfect place to discuss just how we all got out of Africa and into that far away world so long ago - for it is an astounding and fascinating story.
