Besides my ostrich encounter, there were really only two occasions where I felt that my life was threatened by wildlife in Kenya. There were several occasions of fearing for my life involving other people, but that’s another post.The incident happened in Tsavo. Tsavo is famous for one thing in particular. Man-eating lions. Around the turn of the century, Colonel Patterson was tasked with building a bridge for the British Empire (a bridge that still stands today, and is not remotely impressive). He watched in horror as worker after worker (mostly “coolies” from India) were dragged away, killed, and devoured. Eventually, Patterson killed two lions, but only after unbelievable difficulties. The lions were named The Ghost and The Darkness, and a film about this incident starring Val Kilmer came out in the mid-90s. The lions’ bodies are on display in the Chicago Museum of Natural History. They are male lions, but they have no manes. None of the male lions in Tsavo have them. Upon seeing the area, you would immediately realize why.
Tsavo was green and dense with thorny thicket when we camped there. It was not like the rest of the African savannah. It is almost certain that the male lions of Tsavo do not have manes because if they did, they would never make it ten feet through the underbrush.
The first night we made camp, we could hear lions roaring as the sun set. It was the first time we had heard anything like it, and we were all thrilled. We put our tents, which were made for three people. After an evening around the fire, we all retired to our tents. I slept for a few hours, but woke some time after midnight with a pressing need to ah, relieve myself. There was only one problem.
The roaring continued, but it was much, much closer now. Without opening the tent, it sounded as if a lion was not more than 30 yards away. Another lion was answering this lion from the opposite side of our camp.
I tried to hold it as best I could, but eventually, I absolutely had to go to the bathroom. I roused my tent mates and we opened the ten flap just a bit and pointed our flashlights into the darkness. The eyes of something flashed green at the very edge of the light. The roaring stopped.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to step right outside the tent, and piss to the left. You guy watch those eyes, and if they start coming towards me, say something.” And that’s what I did. It seemed like I was urinating the contents of a small ocean. I kept my eyes on my business and did not look at the lion. If I did, I, well, froze up. Finally, I squeezed out the last drop of fluid and not even pausing to zip my fly, I dove inside the tent.
The eyes never moved. We sealed up the tent and went back to sleep as best we could with massive cats roaring all night. In the morning, the lions were gone.
I can’t remember where the second brush with death happened. It was either Tsavo also, or Amboseli. We were riding in a Land Rover down a muddy road in the park, and the brush was fairly thick on either side of the road. Everything that wasn’t green with life was a dark red from the clay mud. Wildlife was hard to spot. I stood on my seat, holding onto the edges of the hole in the roof, and scanned with binoculars, looking for something interesting. Then, the driver spotted it.
A bull elephant came out of the brush not even twenty feet from us. His skin was streaked red, and his tusks were almost four feet long. He took a hesitant step, then flared his great ears forward. I snapped a shot with my camera. Then, he charged.
Our driver gunned the engine, and we tore off down the road. The elephant stopped in the road behind us and raised his trunk in disdain. For less than a second, I was pretty sure I was going to be thrown from the Rover and trampled to death. Everyone in the vehicle laughed hysterically, and I mean that literally, for half an hour afterward.
