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The park ranger hands Ian a map and flashes a broad smile. "Make sure you zip up your tent. Last night an Englishman was eaten by a lion."
The park ranger hands Ian a map and flashes a broad smile. "Make sure you zip up your tent. Last night an Englishman was eaten by a lion."
Ian laughs. “No worries, our tent is on the roof of our car.”
“What a strange joke,” Marcelle says to Ian as they climb into their Land Rover.
“He’s just reminding us to be careful.”
Matusadona National Park has a large population of lions in a vast savannah without paved roads, signs, toilets or fire pits. Ian frowns at the map and drives down one dirt track after another. Marcelle gazes out her window, looking for animals. Then a shape emerges from the brush onto the track in front of them. "Lion!"
The big male ambles along the track in front of the Land Rover lifting his tail to squirt his scent on passing shrubs. It comes out of him like spray from a perfume bottle.
"Eau de lion," jokes Ian.
The lion ignores the Land Rover rolling behind him. He has no fear and that is why he strolls carefree, without the nervous twitches you see in zebras and other prey.
Inside the Land Rover, Marcelle twitches like a spastic fly in a spider web. “You’re too close,” she tells Ian.
Ian ignores her. He cannot believe their good luck. He wants to enjoy every moment watching this magnificent creature move through its natural habitat. Male lions in the zoo just sleep all day — perhaps because they don’t have territory to mark.
Ian follows the lion until it turns off the road and wanders into the bush.
“Can we go to our campsite now?” asks Marcelle. The sun has sunk low in the sky.
Ian studies the map. He turns it sideways, then upside down.
“Are we lost?” Marcelle scans the road: There is not a single other car to be seen, so there is no one to ask for directions.
“Getting lost is fun,” Ian reminds her. “But I think our campsite is on the other side of those bushes.”
On the other side of the bushes a herd of elephants grazes. The biggest elephant turns toward the Land Rover and flaps its ears. Ian reverses the car.
“Let’s camp somewhere else,” Marcelle says. “There are no facilities, so it doesn’t matter.”
“I think it’s best if the rangers know where to find us.”
“Maybe you should honk the horn and scare them off.”
“This car is no match for a herd of elephants. Let’s just wait.”
The elephants eat slower than a toothless granny snacking on a block of cement. By the time they leave the campsite, the last light has leaked out of the day.
Ian pulls forward and turns off the engine.
“I’m not getting out,” Marcelle says.
“What about dinner?”
“There’s a box of cookies in the back seat and I’ll sleep right here.”
“We’ll be safe once I build a fire.”
Ian straps on his miner’s light and piles wood for a fire.
Marcelle helps by scanning the bushes with a flashlight. If animals are watching, their eyes will glow. If she sees eyes, she will give Ian a shout before rolling up her window.
The fire leaps to life. Ian wraps two potatoes in foil and places them in the embers to bake. He sets two chairs by the blaze. “You can get out now,” he tells Marcelle.
Marcelle creeps out of the car. Together, they sit by the fire listening to the night sounds and eating their potatoes. Marcelle jumps every time she hears a rustle from the surrounding bushes. Then a crack pierces the night, followed by another one.
“Were those gunshots?”
“Sounded like it,” Ian says.
“Something’s not right. This should be a no-hunting area, shouldn't it?” Marcelle imagines armed poachers. She hurries to finish her dinner and brush her teeth, and feels relieved when she and Ian climb on top of their Land Rover and zip their tent closed.
As they lie in the dark, they hear a slow moan followed by a raspy gasp: “mmmMMMMwwwaaaaahhhh.”
“Lion,” murmurs Ian.
“mmmmMMMMMwwwaaaaahhhh.”
The call sounds closer. Marcelle is about to say so to Ian, but he starts snoring. She lies awake listening. Then she realizes she needs to go to the bathroom. If she can fall asleep, she will not be aware that she needs to go to the bathroom. But how can she fall asleep while Ian snores like a hippo with a sinus infection? And how can she go to the bathroom with armed poachers and roaring lions nearby? Too pee, or not to pee, that is her question.
“Wake up,” Marcelle prods Ian. “I have to pee.”
“Ermphg,” snorts Ian.
“I’m scared. Come with me.”
Ian unzips the tent and stumbles onto the roof. He stands to one side of the Land Rover while Marcelle squats on the other.
While allowing Marcelle some privacy to take care of business, let’s review what you should do if you ever find yourself in a similar situation. Obviously, you cannot go down to the ground to relieve yourself because the lions are down there. This means that you have to pee from the roof. If you are an uncle, that is not a problem and you may proceed as normal. However, if you are an auntie, you need to follow these instructions:
1. Drop your pants.
2. Position yourself as if you are about to back flip off a diving board. Your heels should hang over the edge of the roof.
3. Squat and grab onto the roof rack.
4. Stick your bottom into space as far as you can. If you do not stick it out far enough, you will accidentally wash the side of the car.
5. Release.
Marcelle smiles up at Ian and says, “Aaaaaahhhhhhh.”
“mmmmMMMMMwwwaaaaahhhh,” calls the lion.
Two days later, while checking out of the park, Ian asks the smiling ranger about the gunshots.
Two days later, while checking out of the park, Ian asks the smiling ranger about the gunshots.
The ranger nods. “Yes, we had to shoot the lion that ate the Englishman.”
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