Salon Wanderlust | Family values in Africa

[Salon Wanderlust: Travel with a passion]

T A B L E_T A L K
The ugly American: Share your favorite anecdotes of obnoxious Yanks abroad in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk

R E C E N T L Y
High on Huautla
By Derek Peck
Mushrooms are still the best way to travel in this legendary Mexican mountain village
(10/05/98)
Why I hate B&Bs
By Julie Garagliano
On the depravities of teddy bears, claw-foot bathtubs, breakfast quiches and shared bonhomie
(10/02/98)
A desert affair
By Tehila Lieberman
An eerie and magical encounter in the Sinai
(10/01/98)
Iowa heartland
By Jennifer New
The joys and dilemmas of being a traveler from Iowa
(09/30/98)
An Italian romance: Chapter Two
By Laura Fraser
The first time, he had helped heal her heartbreak. Could their second fling be as good as the first?
(09/29/98)

Browse the
Wanderlust Feature archives

Wanderlust's Official
Travel Book Partner

S A L O N
E M P O R I U M
FREE! 12-ounce bag of Salon Blend with a purchase of $30 or more. While supplies last.

FAMILY VALUES IN AFRICA | PAGE 1, 2
- - - - - - - - - -
Time seemed to stand still as the herd performed before us. As soon as the show began, Jessie and Elise were on their feet, this time elbowing their way to the front of the van. I was glad to see them interested.
"What d'ya think?" I asked Jessie. "Need a bath?"
"Hardly," she answered coolly.
"How about you, Elise?"
Elise laughed a little nervously. She wasn't sure what to say. The girls had met only a week ago and this was just the second time she had ridden in our van. She hadn't yet grasped my sense of humor. Jessie, on the other hand, had long ago had too much of my silliness. She was, after all, a teenager.
When we returned home she would be starting high school. Jessie was growing up and I guess I didn't like it much. Maybe I just wanted to make sure that I had done my fatherly job -- passed on something useful. I also wanted to know that the amazing sights we were seeing on our trip were actually getting through to her -- that her self-imposed coolness and distance weren't terminal. One reason we had taken this trip was to get in some "family time" before we slipped into a tight schedule of school, homework and her budding social life.
If the girls had been younger, I might have asked them what they thought of the animals they were seeing. We would have talked and I would have watched their eyes twinkle with the thrill of being here. Jessica would have asked where the daddy elephants were. I would have told her that they were busy. "At work?" she probably would have asked. "Yes, at work," I would have agreed.
If they were still children, we might have counted the elephants together. We would have repeated the game until Jessica would have put her hand over my mouth and insisted on counting them all by herself.
In either case, they might not have recognized the uniqueness of the moment, but I would have tried to help them store the experience in a special place where they could find it later. But these girls were difficult to make contact with -- too old to be children and to young to really understand being adults. So, I made stupid jokes. I kept contact and Jessie's reactions made me laugh.
It wasn't long before the elephants began to stir. A little water, a little wash, and it was time to cross the river. As before, the matriarch stepped ahead to test the going. I imagined that these elephants had crossed this river at this spot, at this hour, hundreds of times. The fact that James had brought us here made that obvious.
Still, the elephants weren't taking any chances. Children were with them and that meant extra care. Soon the herd was lining up. Behind the leader came her child. Next came another of the baby's guardians. The others followed. Youngsters stood between older relations until they were all sloshing their way toward us. The leader raised her trunk slightly and snorted. The image of a freight train came to mind, and even though it wasn't very original, it was accurate. Plodding along, the big engine led the way; at the end, another large female followed, a secure, strong caboose.
High on our bluff we knew that we were safely out of the way. The elephants were heading to our right, to a small, sandy beach where the riverbank was lower and a path up had already been established. Before the lead mom made her way up the bank, she raised her trunk high into the air, twisting it in all directions. She seemed uncomfortable and cautiously waited for the group to come back together.
Secure in our van, we watched and listened in silence. Nothing could move us from this spot.
Except for James. Without warning, he started the van and quickly backed up. Our jaws dropped. Where the hell was he going? We wanted to get closer, not farther from the bank, we thought to ourselves. But it all was happening too quickly to even talk. The elephants were hidden now, and in a split second we stopped again. Ahead of us was the forgotten lion, still asleep; to our right, his comrade continued to slumber. In between was the open pathway that led from the river to a field of tall grass.
Clearly, the elephants were headed for this tall grass beyond and behind us. Elephants spend as much as 16 hours a day foraging for food and this savanna was a wide-open buffet. But to get there, they had to pass between the lions. We knew that, but did the elephants?
Yup.
The big mama trumpeted with a long, excited blast. Almost in unison, the lions raised their groggy heads. Across the path the distant lion stood. But he had only a moment to take in the situation before two adult elephants were upon him. They screamed and stamped their huge feet. Their ears flapped wildly. Still sleepy eyed, the lion almost fell back on his rump as he stepped back.
From our position in the van we were close enough to see the passion in the elephants' eyes. Their trunks waved madly, infuriated by the smell of the only animal that might harm a young elephant calf. They were pissed and the lion knew it. Still, he was a lion. He drew himself up and puffed out his chest. A low growling roar followed. For maybe a split second the elephants forgot that even one of them, alone, could turn this feline into a messy sack of vulture feed. But while this lion was young, he wasn't foolhardy. Having made his point, he turned tail and ran.
So much for lions, the two matrons must have thought -- at least for a split second. But the smell was still in the air. What gives?
We knew. While this elephant-lion tête-à-tête was going on, the first lion, our nearby lion, was calmly taking it all in. Even though he was in clear view to us, his post under the scraggly bush kept him hidden from the elephants. The two matrons had focused on his comrade, leaving our lion a front-row seat.
By now, the baby and several of the others were quickly moving into the clearing. At the same time the two matrons struggled with the idea that, while they could see their lion slowly fleeing through the grass, it somehow still remained.
Still, the second lion didn't go entirely overlooked. The matriarch of the herd had now stepped ahead of the rest. She had moved between the matrons and our lion and, in an instant, she recognized the danger. Quickly she whirled to face him, swinging her rising trunk and showing her pointed tusks. She too stomped, then stopped. Leaning forward she seemed to be almost daring the quickly rising lion to try something.
Our lion got the message. He quickly backed away, keeping a wary eye on the irate mother. Just to show that she meant business, the elephant lurched a few steps closer. She trumpeted again, then swung her head around to check on the progress of the group.
Standing only 15 feet in front of us, the lion backed up even farther, this time with added enthusiasm for his plan of escape. He continued to back off, farther and farther. Then he was gone, swallowed by the bush.
We looked back across the path and watched the herd pass into the tall grass. Then we all took a breath.
Not much was said on the ride back to camp. I suspect that, like me, everyone in the van was replaying the scene in their heads. The two teens, however, had wasted no time slapping their headsets on and falling back into that strange un-place where, even with their eyes open, they were lost to the here and now.
I couldn't get the elephant-lion standoff out of my mind. They couldn't get past their favorite cuts on their newest CDs.
"What d'ya think of the lions?" I shouted past my daughter's earphones.
"Yeah," she responded.
"Yeah, what?" I persisted.
"Yeah, lions," she added.
"Yeah, lions, what?" I went on.
Just then Linda touched my arm and pointed at the blazing red sun setting before us and the pair of giraffes that were marching past it on the horizon. I turned away, took it all in, then I turned back to catch Jessie's attention.
She rolled her eyes.
I was just checking. Something was in there, wasn't it? As she wandered closer to adulthood I wanted to make sure that the tight web of self-absorption had, at least, a few soft spots that could break open to let the rest of the world in. It didn't have to be just my ideas, or her mother's. I just wanted to know that there was room in there and a way in.
That night after dinner I watched as all the kids gathered around a bonfire carefully set in the clearing in front of the dining hall. Overwhelmed by the bright flames, the darkness surrounding them gave me perfect cover. Like the gawky, two-legged omnivore that I am, I stepped closer to steal a listen.
Jessica was rattling on, speeding through any attempt by the others to get a word in sideways:
"... And then the elephants turned and stared at that lion and really got pissed. I mean, who wouldn't? It was amazing, like, I wouldn't want a lion hanging around when my baby elephant was only a few feet away, so the lion saw which way was up and turned right around. I mean, like, hello, I may be a lion, but you're a lot bigger than I am and like, 'Excuse me, I think I left the water running in my car ...'"
The others seemed to have trouble keeping up with her, and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't do more than get a quick "Uh-huh" or an astonished "Really?" out of their lips before she went zooming on.
I stood there and smiled to myself. I wondered how close I could get before she realized I was there, before she stopped dead in mid-sentence.
I waited. Then I backed up into the darkness.
SALON | Oct. 6, 1998
David Kravitz is a writer who lives in Illinois.


	T A B L E_T A L K The ugly American: Share your favorite anecdotes of obnoxious Yanks abroad in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y High on Huautla By Derek Peck Mushrooms are still the best way to travel in this legendary Mexican mountain village (10/05/98) Why I hate B&Bs By Julie Garagliano On the depravities of teddy bears, claw-foot bathtubs, breakfast quiches and shared bonhomie (10/02/98) A desert affair By Tehila Lieberman An eerie and magical encounter in the Sinai (10/01/98) Iowa heartland By Jennifer New The joys and dilemmas of being a traveler from Iowa (09/30/98) An Italian romance: Chapter Two By Laura Fraser The first time, he had helped heal her heartbreak. Could their second fling be as good as the first? (09/29/98) Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner S A L O N E M P O R I U M FREE! 12-ounce bag of Salon Blend with a purchase of $30 or more. While supplies last.		FAMILY VALUES IN AFRICA \| PAGE 1, 2 - - - - - - - - - - Time seemed to stand still as the herd performed before us. As soon as the show began, Jessie and Elise were on their feet, this time elbowing their way to the front of the van. I was glad to see them interested. "What d'ya think?" I asked Jessie. "Need a bath?" "Hardly," she answered coolly. "How about you, Elise?" Elise laughed a little nervously. She wasn't sure what to say. The girls had met only a week ago and this was just the second time she had ridden in our van. She hadn't yet grasped my sense of humor. Jessie, on the other hand, had long ago had too much of my silliness. She was, after all, a teenager. When we returned home she would be starting high school. Jessie was growing up and I guess I didn't like it much. Maybe I just wanted to make sure that I had done my fatherly job -- passed on something useful. I also wanted to know that the amazing sights we were seeing on our trip were actually getting through to her -- that her self-imposed coolness and distance weren't terminal. One reason we had taken this trip was to get in some "family time" before we slipped into a tight schedule of school, homework and her budding social life. If the girls had been younger, I might have asked them what they thought of the animals they were seeing. We would have talked and I would have watched their eyes twinkle with the thrill of being here. Jessica would have asked where the daddy elephants were. I would have told her that they were busy. "At work?" she probably would have asked. "Yes, at work," I would have agreed. If they were still children, we might have counted the elephants together. We would have repeated the game until Jessica would have put her hand over my mouth and insisted on counting them all by herself. In either case, they might not have recognized the uniqueness of the moment, but I would have tried to help them store the experience in a special place where they could find it later. But these girls were difficult to make contact with -- too old to be children and to young to really understand being adults. So, I made stupid jokes. I kept contact and Jessie's reactions made me laugh. It wasn't long before the elephants began to stir. A little water, a little wash, and it was time to cross the river. As before, the matriarch stepped ahead to test the going. I imagined that these elephants had crossed this river at this spot, at this hour, hundreds of times. The fact that James had brought us here made that obvious. Still, the elephants weren't taking any chances. Children were with them and that meant extra care. Soon the herd was lining up. Behind the leader came her child. Next came another of the baby's guardians. The others followed. Youngsters stood between older relations until they were all sloshing their way toward us. The leader raised her trunk slightly and snorted. The image of a freight train came to mind, and even though it wasn't very original, it was accurate. Plodding along, the big engine led the way; at the end, another large female followed, a secure, strong caboose. High on our bluff we knew that we were safely out of the way. The elephants were heading to our right, to a small, sandy beach where the riverbank was lower and a path up had already been established. Before the lead mom made her way up the bank, she raised her trunk high into the air, twisting it in all directions. She seemed uncomfortable and cautiously waited for the group to come back together. Secure in our van, we watched and listened in silence. Nothing could move us from this spot. Except for James. Without warning, he started the van and quickly backed up. Our jaws dropped. Where the hell was he going? We wanted to get closer, not farther from the bank, we thought to ourselves. But it all was happening too quickly to even talk. The elephants were hidden now, and in a split second we stopped again. Ahead of us was the forgotten lion, still asleep; to our right, his comrade continued to slumber. In between was the open pathway that led from the river to a field of tall grass. Clearly, the elephants were headed for this tall grass beyond and behind us. Elephants spend as much as 16 hours a day foraging for food and this savanna was a wide-open buffet. But to get there, they had to pass between the lions. We knew that, but did the elephants? Yup. The big mama trumpeted with a long, excited blast. Almost in unison, the lions raised their groggy heads. Across the path the distant lion stood. But he had only a moment to take in the situation before two adult elephants were upon him. They screamed and stamped their huge feet. Their ears flapped wildly. Still sleepy eyed, the lion almost fell back on his rump as he stepped back. From our position in the van we were close enough to see the passion in the elephants' eyes. Their trunks waved madly, infuriated by the smell of the only animal that might harm a young elephant calf. They were pissed and the lion knew it. Still, he was a lion. He drew himself up and puffed out his chest. A low growling roar followed. For maybe a split second the elephants forgot that even one of them, alone, could turn this feline into a messy sack of vulture feed. But while this lion was young, he wasn't foolhardy. Having made his point, he turned tail and ran. So much for lions, the two matrons must have thought -- at least for a split second. But the smell was still in the air. What gives? We knew. While this elephant-lion tête-à-tête was going on, the first lion, our nearby lion, was calmly taking it all in. Even though he was in clear view to us, his post under the scraggly bush kept him hidden from the elephants. The two matrons had focused on his comrade, leaving our lion a front-row seat. By now, the baby and several of the others were quickly moving into the clearing. At the same time the two matrons struggled with the idea that, while they could see their lion slowly fleeing through the grass, it somehow still remained. Still, the second lion didn't go entirely overlooked. The matriarch of the herd had now stepped ahead of the rest. She had moved between the matrons and our lion and, in an instant, she recognized the danger. Quickly she whirled to face him, swinging her rising trunk and showing her pointed tusks. She too stomped, then stopped. Leaning forward she seemed to be almost daring the quickly rising lion to try something. Our lion got the message. He quickly backed away, keeping a wary eye on the irate mother. Just to show that she meant business, the elephant lurched a few steps closer. She trumpeted again, then swung her head around to check on the progress of the group. Standing only 15 feet in front of us, the lion backed up even farther, this time with added enthusiasm for his plan of escape. He continued to back off, farther and farther. Then he was gone, swallowed by the bush. We looked back across the path and watched the herd pass into the tall grass. Then we all took a breath. Not much was said on the ride back to camp. I suspect that, like me, everyone in the van was replaying the scene in their heads. The two teens, however, had wasted no time slapping their headsets on and falling back into that strange un-place where, even with their eyes open, they were lost to the here and now. I couldn't get the elephant-lion standoff out of my mind. They couldn't get past their favorite cuts on their newest CDs. "What d'ya think of the lions?" I shouted past my daughter's earphones. "Yeah," she responded. "Yeah, what?" I persisted. "Yeah, lions," she added. "Yeah, lions, what?" I went on. Just then Linda touched my arm and pointed at the blazing red sun setting before us and the pair of giraffes that were marching past it on the horizon. I turned away, took it all in, then I turned back to catch Jessie's attention. She rolled her eyes. I was just checking. Something was in there, wasn't it? As she wandered closer to adulthood I wanted to make sure that the tight web of self-absorption had, at least, a few soft spots that could break open to let the rest of the world in. It didn't have to be just my ideas, or her mother's. I just wanted to know that there was room in there and a way in. That night after dinner I watched as all the kids gathered around a bonfire carefully set in the clearing in front of the dining hall. Overwhelmed by the bright flames, the darkness surrounding them gave me perfect cover. Like the gawky, two-legged omnivore that I am, I stepped closer to steal a listen. Jessica was rattling on, speeding through any attempt by the others to get a word in sideways: "... And then the elephants turned and stared at that lion and really got pissed. I mean, who wouldn't? It was amazing, like, I wouldn't want a lion hanging around when my baby elephant was only a few feet away, so the lion saw which way was up and turned right around. I mean, like, hello, I may be a lion, but you're a lot bigger than I am and like, 'Excuse me, I think I left the water running in my car ...'" The others seemed to have trouble keeping up with her, and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't do more than get a quick "Uh-huh" or an astonished "Really?" out of their lips before she went zooming on. I stood there and smiled to myself. I wondered how close I could get before she realized I was there, before she stopped dead in mid-sentence. I waited. Then I backed up into the darkness. SALON \| Oct. 6, 1998 David Kravitz is a writer who lives in Illinois.