My flight to Ndutu in Southern Serengeti was at 8am. I left the coffee lodge at 7am and it was a slightly bumpy 10 minute drive to the airport which was protected by a 10 ft. chain linked fence. The check-in in counter is feels more like the check-in at a low-rent hotel. Two guys just checking passports and tickets against a hand-written ledger. Then they write out your boarding pass, which resembles a large theatre ticket. My bags were weighed – they cannot be over 50lbs and then they are carried over to an x-ray machine to check them for dangerous items. Once you are cleared the bags are left by the side of the gravel airstrip where all the small planes are lined up and waiting for passengers.

The airport looks more like an old abandoned bus depot from yesteryear. There are wooden pew-like benches inside; small stands selling all sorts of beaded trinkets and t-shirts; two snack shops; and an open air seating area that faces the runway. Lots of little metal shacks that are identified by signs that say arrival area, departure area, or restroom.

Some of the planes were still being washed by the airport staff with mops and buckets of water. The front windshield of the planes were covered from the inside with folding silver reflector shades that the pilots remove just before takeoff.

Our pilot was late showing up (he arrived about 8:30) and before he got in the plane he hollered through the fence for a coffee from the girl who runs the snack stand. One of the airport attendants ran to fetch the coffee, which the pilot quickly downed. Fortified with the caffeine, he swung his door open and pulled out the silver shades letting us know he was ready for business.

I made sure that I was the last in line to board so that I could request to ride shotgun. The safety belt is a 5-point harness. The five straps fasten into a metal circular buckle – there are 2 over the shoulder straps, 1 strap for each side of your waist, and one that comes up between your legs. To undo the straps, you twist the circular buckle, which releases the straps. The funny thing is I could not figure out how to make the straps longer so my puss had a nice wedgey.

Hey Maria Rinaldi, if you read this, I met your future husband. A hot, French pilot named Guillome (spelling?). I included his photo. He flies for Air Excel. Soon as the plane levelled off, he pulled out his breakfast and started eating – a Tupperware container filled with yogurt, cereal, and fruit. He was quite cute and had a great sense of humor. I told him all about you and how I hope you move here and start flying. I even showed him your photo and he agreed that you should move to Tanzania. So if it all works out – you must invite me to your wedding – hopefully in the middle of the bush.

We flew over Ngorongoro Crater. I saw lots of jeeps but no animals – kind of like when I was there a few years ago. When we landed in Ndutu about 45 minutes later, I was met by my guide Ken. He was very nice but I could tell he was a bit concerned that I was an unreasonable person because I had booked a private car for game drives. So he wanted to know if it was OK if they served me lunch and dinner with everyone else. I giggled and said, “No way will I eat with anyone else. As a matter of fact I don’t want anyone to look at me.” He could tell I was kidding. I just explained that if I rode with other guests, I would be outnumbered and outvoted when it came to decisions for the day. I had had that experience in the past with a couple who only wanted to go out for an hour and then return for breakfast. It created quite a headache so to make sure I had an enjoyable trip, I booked a private car. I like to go out and eat breakfast and lunch in the bush so I can see as much as possible. I also like to stay out as long as possible on the afternoon drives.

On our way to camp, we stopped to talk with a few other drivers and found out there was a small pack of 4 African hunting dogs. Now they are an endangered species and highly unusual to be seen in this part of the Serengeti. Ken asked if I wanted to see them to which I quickly replied “YES!!!!!” So off we went to find them…and we did.

We followed them as they trotted along with their big donkey eras flapping in the wind. They have such a joyous gait as they high-stepped it through the low grasses. Their coats are black with brown and yellow spotted accents. The female had a collar so they are part of a research study that tracks their movements. Unfortunately they were heading toward Maassai land where the Massai live. If they kill their goats or cattle, the Massai may poison them to get rid of them. Ken explained to me their hunting techniques. Since they are not strong enough to take down their prey they surround it and take bites out of the flesh so the animal dies from blood loss and shock. They literally devour it on the spot. They are eating machines.

When we saw them there were no animals close enough for them to consume. Who knows from where or how far they had travelled. When they got to Lake Ndutu, they immediately put their bottoms and hind legs in the water to cool off. They were exhausted. The site of them standing in the shallow part of the lake with their reflections in the water was just gorgeous. Ken followed them as they trotted along and then disappeared into the bush. What an amazing welcome!

I met the other campers at lunch– 4 Brits in their 70s and an American couple in their 30s. The Americans only go out in the mornings and the Brits like to leave late for the morning drives after breakfast and return early from the afternoon drives. Booking the private car was the right decision. I had lunch with the Brits – they are very polite with a sly sense of humor. All 4 were in the medical profession – either practitioners or researchers. They have been eaten alive by the Tsetse flies. One woman’s feet were swollen and purple from the bites. They were all getting over a flu-like illness that had been lingering for months. This is the last stop on their trip. They have been making the rounds at a few of the lodges.
The afternoon drive was pretty uneventful. I saw zebras, giraffes, a family of dik diks (miniature antelopes), a single hippo swimming in the middle of Lake Masek, and a herd of wildebeest – nothing that rivaled the siting of the African hunting dogs.

During the pre-dinner drinks phase of the PM program. All the guests in the camp sat around a huge fire nibbling on roasted cashews and imbibing the poison of choice. Most had white or red wine, one of the 4 doctors had Tusker beer and I had a gin & tonic. At one point I zoned out of the innocuous conversation and started sending rain signals to the clouds. The guides were complaining about the lack of rain so far and how dusty it was. So like a rain shaman, I jumped up and started doing a chant and dance in a ring about the fire. The ritual consisted of three grunts while simultaneously marching and alternating the bending of my elbows so I was doing a sort of hunched salute. I did this three times before throwing my head back hollering “rain” and then giving 3 seconds of jazz hands to the sky. I did one complete revolution about the fire. The other guests laughed and told Hans, one of the camp attendants not to refill my glass.

Dinner was pretty boring. One of the old doctors monopolized the conversation with tales of his past career as a surgeon and the pubs he likes to frequent. I excused myself around 9:00pm and retired to my room. My wake-up call was for 5am. I did a little reading and writing and then fell asleep. At 1:00am, I was awakened by the wind whipping the sides of my tent. Then the thunder and claps of lightening started. Next the heavy downpour of rain lasted until 3:00am. Laugh if you want, but my dance worked!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My goal accomplished…I went back to sleep.