Yesterday evening our friendly little African gray parrot came swooping down to his tree to chat with me one last time. Of course, he didn’t know it was the last time, but I do like to imagine that he’ll miss us when we’ve gone. Hearing his whistle from inside, I rushed out to the front porch to reply, but I hadn’t been there long when John Paul came to drag me back to the table where everyone was waiting for dinner. That was in fun, but I feel dragged today - pulled against my will away from the one place I want to be more than anywhere else. Africa.
Jon, Eva, and I woke up early, and a rather bleary-eyed Candice and LeeAnn stumbled downstairs to see us off at 6:00 a.m. As the sun rose, Eva and I left Jon at the airport, lugging his African drums along behind him. Then we had some time on our hands. A lot of time. We were in Entebee, a good half-hour drive from Kampala, and my plane didn’t leave until 4:30 this afternoon. So, we got creative. We went to the zoo. Who would ever have thought I’d spend my last day in Africa at the zoo?
It was just like our African safari in Rwanda - only all the animals were in pens instead of out in the wild. The zebras that had stared at us so suspiciously as we exited our safari vehicle didn’t even look up from munching their hay as we ambled past their large square pen. Go figure. But I got some amazing photographs - of the Ugandan national bird, lots of monkeys (one of which jumped on the table and attempted to snitch our food at lunch), a majestically sleeping lion, and lots more - and I figure if I place them right, no one will know which ones I took on safari and which ones I took at the zoo! How’s that for exaggeration?! When we got tired from walking, we rested on a rather narrow picnic table bench on Lake Victoria while the sun burned down on us and made our eyes water. It was a beautiful day of blue skies and towering white clouds, and I thank You for that, my Lord.
There was one thing about this zoo that was very different from American zoos. In America, we believe in cement and pavement - which, if ugly, is at least comparatively clean. In Africa, they believe in dirt. Red dirt. And for some reason, those vicious little African fire ants love red dirt. So, we were walking past the zebras down the broad dirt path, when suddenly our taxi driver (who was walking a few steps ahead of us) stopped short. Eva and I stopped beside him, wondering what the problem was. Then we looked down. Hundreds upon hundreds, and thousands upon thousands of those little red ants had taken over the path before us, literally overflowing into the grass and trees and making the road seem like a live, seething thing for a good five yards. What now? There was no second path, and the trees on one side and fence on the other made skirting the issue absolutely impossible. We stood in wide-eyed contemplation for several moments, and then, without a word, our driver hiked up his pant legs and, high-stepping, dashed through the ants, shaking himself fiercely when he reached the other side. Eva and I looked at each other, hiked up our pant legs, and dashed after him! I do believe that was the most ferocious thing we saw at the zoo today.
After escaping from the fire ants and eating a nearly-stolen lunch (so, you see, it really was quite an exciting day), we were just in time to witness the 44th birthday celebration of Zakayo. The chimpanzee. It is quite a celebrity event, I’m told, and by the masses of school children, photographers, and random spectators like us, I think I believe them. We waited and waited while the zoo experts expounded loquaciously on the benefits and pitfalls of being a chimpanzee, and it was all fairly dull - except that they actually led us into the chimp’s cage. Not with the chimps present, of course. But I’ve never been inside one of the cages at the zoo before, and it was rather fun.
And then, after ushering all of us out, they ushered Zakayo in . . . We were hardly prepared for what happened next. They had set up this fancy cake, complete with a thick layer of frosting, on a one-legged flat board that served as a table, from which dangled an obviously hand-made happy birthday sign. (All this for a monkey!) Well, the birthday boy came racing out, sniffing furiously (probably because a bunch of humans had gone touring his house while he was away!), finally spotted his birthday surprise, went charging over, but . . . not bothering to take a second look, raised his arms and sent the whole thing flying through the air. The cake landed upside down, the table crumpled into a heap, and the birthday banner rolled down the hill. Zakayo just kept running. How’s that for gratitude?
He did finally come back though, mostly, I think, because they let the other chimpanzees out, and he began to think that maybe he shouldn’t be so finicky about the flavor of icing after all! So, he snatched up a slice or two, squatted down, his back to us, and began chewing away. He never did turn around. The newspaper photographers were rather frustrated with their uncooperative subject, but I thought it was hilarious. Oh, another thing they’d done was hide little containers of chocolate milk all over the place. So, as Zakayo pouted, all his friends romped around finding treats, then sat down to enjoy. Chocolate milk carton in one hand and slice of cake in the other. I must say, it’s the most interesting birthday party I’ve ever seen!
And then it was time to go. Eva - God, bless her - dropped me off at the airport. So, here we go again . . . I’m presently on a plane sitting in the Dubai airport, bound for London, and wishing I had never left Africa. Dear God, speed the day of my return! You work all things well.
As I was getting ready to leave the Entebbe airport in Uganda to board the plane, I looked out the huge windows and was overwhelmed by a strong sense of, “You will come back here again. I will bring you back to this place.” So, there You go. Here is the end; here is the beginning. I’ve never known five weeks of such incredible contentment and joy. I’ve never loved so easily, so deeply - never been so filled up with so many dear hearts to love. My Father and my God, I bow down at Your feet, and I thank You for this trip. I praise You, my God, for all the marvelous things You have done since I left Nebraska. May it be a beginning, Lord. This is my plea. You have begun something, Jesus, and it is good. Finish it. Amen.
So, would you believe me if I told you this is actually one of my safari shots?
The gracefully elegant - but still humorously chicken-like - Ugandan national bird.
Thieving little monkey
Zakayo's rich abode. I stood under the tall tree on the right.
Chocolate milk and cake.
