It was early morning, the hot African sun just rising above the horizon to light the savannah. We inched along, eagerly squinting through the windows of our van for any sign of wildlife, until we spotted a long line of cars stopped on the road, a sure sign that something remarkable was there. When we joined the stationary row of visitors, we finally spotted what had captured so many: two male lions, thick manes darkened with age, ambling down the road in our direction. Just as their path carried them close to us, a vehicle from ahead backed up between us and the lions, completely blocking our view.
I was 14 when we took that trip to my mother’s home country of South Africa. I spent our entire 6-month visit impatiently awaiting our trip to Kruger National Park, one of the biggest game reserves in Africa, covering thousands of square miles and protecting hundreds of different animal species in their natural habitat. I have always had a love for all African wildlife, but nothing compared to my ever-increasing excitement to see the majestic lion, king of beasts. Some go to the park for years without ever laying eyes on one, but on our brief visit there, we were blessed to see 20. The most incredible of these sightings remains one of the coolest moments of my life, and in a way, I owe the entire experience to that one disagreeable tourist. After they prevented us from enjoying a close encounter with the first two great beasts, we moved on, frustrated, but still hopeful for the day to come. Not ten minutes down the road, that faith was rewarded. Coming down a side path, fur golden in the morning light, were nine lions: one large male, several females, and a few half-grown cubs. As they reached the main road, the pride stopped their steady forward movement and lounged on the pavement surrounding our vehicle. Periodically, the male found the necessary motivation to rise and take a few lumbering steps forward before sprawling on the ground to rest again. The other lions lay alert a few yards ahead, waiting, watchful, observing a far-off antelope. So it continued for almost an hour, as we watched awestruck through the windows of our van. Finally, one by one, the great cats returned to the savannah, until the last lion’s figure was finally swallowed by the tall swaying grass.
