As dawn breaks on the endless plains of Serengeti, every lion there wakes up knowing well that it has to run faster than the slowest antelope in sight; and every antelope wakes up knowing for sure that it has to run faster than the fastest lion on the horizon.
The drama of life and death unfolds on the stage of survival, every day and every night, nay every moment. And you realise that the end of a life is only the beginning of another.
When you gaze around the landscape covering all of 360 degrees, you suddenly become conscious of thousands and thousands of zebras and wildebeest slowly closing in on you. And you feel as insignificant as a speck in the dust storm that is created by their gathering hooves. For a moment you feel the same fear that ran through the veins of the prehistoric man till he discovered the cold comfort of a stone-age weapon.
Yes in Serengeti where we witnessed some of Nature’s finest spectacles, the land is so flat that Galileo would have thought thrice before declaring the earth is round.
The reason why this landscape is flat goes back a few millennia. A volcanic eruption flattened Serengeti and covered it with ashes so thick that only grass could survive there for centuries on end. And the massive boulders spewed by the volcano landed thousands of miles away and became what’s called the kopjes where the lions and lionesses rear their family in quiet privacy.
One of the first sights on our journey was a hyaena’s kill. The gazelle was brought down by the lone hyaena. And just as it was preparing for a sumptuous lunch, the hovering vultures got wind of the happening and started descending on the scene, one by one. Within moments, there were over 30 of them, and the hyaena withdrew valiantly from the scene. And for the first time ever, I saw a hyaena with a sheepish grin.
As I saw the starlings flitting by, the secretary bird strutting along, and the white-necked ravens creating a racket, I remembered the pied-crested cuckoo that had flown from Africa all the way to Mumbai to herald the monsoon. The common crows had piled on the poor guest not knowing the Indian hospitality of ’atithi devo bhava’. And in a moment of spontaneous action I ’interfered’ with Nature’s course and saved the cuckoo and took it all the way to the BNHS office in town. There I handed it over to the caring hands of Isaac Kehimkar who later released it in the BNHS land at Borivli National Park.
How I wish I had ringed that bird to trace its safe journey back to its homeland in Africa. Till date I don’t know whether it actually survived the ordeal. I really don’t want to know because I want to believe it did.
Then we visited Oldupai where the remains of the earliest man ever to walk the earth was excavated. At that place I felt thirsty. Later I realised that a river had run along there till its course was altered forever by volcanic eruptions. No wonder the recorded memory of a few million years was transmitted in an instant to my parched throat.
The next day was what I call ’National Geographic, Live!’ We had booked ourselves for a ride in the hot air balloon. But before we were to see the breathtaking eagle’s eye view of the Serengeti grasslands, we were to witness Tanzania in the dying hours of the night. Our trip to the Masai kopjes started at 5 in the morning and we saw glistening eyes lit up by the headlights of our Land Rover. Piercing eyes without accompanying bodies staring straight at us: hippos, jackals, lions, wild hare and hyaenas.
As the balloon manoeuvred by a team of master fliers soared above Serengeti, we saw the aerial view of the most awesome spectacle on earth: the Great Migration.
In May, thousands and thousands of zebras and wildebeest congregate into large groups, building up their cadres to eventually touch an astronomical figure of 20 lakh animals. Come August, they set off on a single trail crossing two violent rivers on the way: the Grumeti and the Mara. And come back all the way back to where they started. In the process losing a few thousand to the fury of the rivers in spate. What makes them undertake this suicidal mission, year after year, is a mystery still to be unravelled by man.
Maybe it is nature’s own wanderlust, or maybe it is a journey in which life searches for itself.
Stranger than this masochist ordeal, where they face certain death from the feline predators lying in ambush in the grasslands and the alligators waiting patiently in the swirling rivers, is another tale: The tale of a species of butterflies that migrates all the way from Africa to faraway Canada and comes all the way back. But the twist in the tale is that the lifespan of butterflies being as short-lived as three months, it’s the third generation that reaches Canada and the sixth generation that reaches the country of their origin: Africa.
We celebrated our survival and safe landing with a typical champagne breakfast under a flat-top acacia that stood lonely in the grasslands.
There we saw, and tried to make friends with, the calf of a wildebeest that was separated from its mother. Apparently the motherly instincts of the wildebeest is the least developed in the animal kingdom, and consequently mothers losing their calves due to negligence is an hourly occurrence in Serengeti.
When one of the tourists asked whether we could carry it to the safety of civilisation where it could be reared in captivity, our guide Mtaki said sternly, ’Here in the wild only the fittest survive.’ And the import of that statement sunk into our souls like a prehistoric rock.
The Great Migration is also linked to the Tale of the Reducing Height of the Grass. At first, the zebras and the wildebeest eat the tall grass thereby reducing its height. Following them are the shorter antelopes like bushbucks that feed on the shortened grass further reducing the height. Last come the tiny gazelles who find the grass perfectly cut to suit their stature.
Yes, Nature has worked it all out. Only one out of 20 attempts by a predator is successful. Which means 19 times the prey gets a chance to die another day. No wonder we saw a cheetah teaching her two grown up calves the fine art of hunting in open plains.
Also, the God who camouflaged the predator also camouflaged the prey: in various shades of the Serengeti brown. Which is probably the reason why we saw leopards take vantage points on top of bare acacia trees to spot the distant movement of preys.
At Lake Manyara, we even saw lions that climb trees. In fact, it’s the only place in the world where these special lions are found. Their favourite perches were sausage trees that have branches starting as low as four feet from the ground, enabling an easy climb.
Every day when we crossed a particular patch in the jungle we had to close the hood of our Land Rover and pull up all the window panes as a swarm of ’tse tse’ flies would invade the vehicle and inflict really painful bites on our bodies. The yellow fever vaccination that’s mandatory for every tourist is to prevent a deadly fever caused by these ’tse tse’ flies. It was a gentle reminder that this paradise on earth also has its Pandora’s Box.
Then we moved on to Ngorongoro, the largest crater on earth, formed as the volcanic mountains moved away in one giant seismic movement a few millennia ago. Measuring 20 kms in diametre, it’s a whole ecosystem that survives inside. There’s a mini Tanzania in there: elephants, lions, leopards, hyaenas, zebras, sweet water hippos, salt water flamingos and a plethora of avian species.
But the wildlife that exists inside never really ventures out. So it’s almost as if they are marooned in the crater. Only the female elephants move around on the rim of the crater as it’s rich in grasslands, and the male elephants with tusks almost touching the ground come to visit them during the mating season.
In the middle of the crater, we witnessed an entire entourage of lions lazing around, yawning and stretching their tired legs. Maybe recharging their batteries after a hard night’s work in the wilderness.
As we were driving back to the forest lodge, we saw a double rainbow in the sky spanning the entire crater. Maybe to remind us that we had witnessed a double delight in Tanzania: the endless plains of Serengeti and the marooned mysticism of Ngorongoro.
