lions and elephants in the bush, oh my!

My own life astonishes me these days. We arrived in Zimbabwe on Saturday at 11. It's Monday at nearly 9PM and in that span of time I have had so many experiences I never dreamed I'd really get to have.

Today, I walked with lions and rode an elephant.

That is a sentence the likes of which I will not often get to write.

It was cold enough that I could see my breath this morning as we huddled together and signed our waivers. (Everything I do these days seems to carry the risk of death or dismemberment. I'm not complaining.) The sun was still low, the sky starting to turn blue after the pastel rainbow sunrise had spent itself in a blaze of orange and gold. Sticks in hand, our weapons against the king of the jungle, we walked quietly through the bush, dry grass rustling under our feet as we circumnavigated big piles of elephant poo.

We came upon them suddenly. Mbote and Monday are brother and sister, only nine months old but big enough to set my heart skipping. Walking alongside them, my hand on Monday's back, was like a dream. Nine months old, and her musles rippled under her coarse fur. Her eyes were golden, her paws still too big for her body. Mbote stalked ahead. We didn't pet hium because, according to our guide, he doesn't know how to play. If you stand near him he will turn around and bite your leg. No need for that.

After some time we left them and went off to find the others, two males both eighteen months old, their manes just starting to grow in tufts around their heads. They were perched on an outcropping of rock, and Phil and I sat down to have our photo taken.

The lion in front of us was quiet, almost bored, but as we sat there I felt a rumbling growl from behind me. I froze as Julle, from a little ways away, let me know that the lion behind me was turning his head and moving towards my back as he growled.

It turns out that my natural response to intense fear is to freeze solid with a look of terror on my face. I sat there, hoping Phil would have time to get away while I was being chewed and wishing one of the guides would give me some kind of instructions.

A few taps with a stick later and it was safe for me to get up and get away, which I did willingly. That was enough of an encounter for me! After we'd finished with the lions and enjoyed a picnic-style English breakfast, it was back down the road to meet the elephants.


Our guide, Wellington, helped us onto Lundi's back; she's too picky to use the platform provided, so she knelt down in the dirt and we clambered aboard. Gracefully, of course.

Sitting there on her back, wandering through the bush at a leisurely pace while Wellington pushed back thorn trees and pointed out impala and warthogs among the trees was surreal. I leaned forward and pressed my palm to Lundi's shoulder, feeling the massive, solid bulk of her under my hand. As she walked, her trunk curled around branches, tearing them off and chomping them up for a snack. Every so often she'd pull her trunk up over her head, the tip of it moving like lips, waiting for the treats Wellington let Phil and I pour into her nostrils so she could shoot them into her mouth.

I find myself in awe of God's creation, surrounded as I have been by parts of it so new to me. I marvel at the creativity that gave us lions and elephants, dry bush and thundering falls, rushing rivers and a million stars overhead. What must He be like to have spoken all this? How can I understand His glory if I'm floored by a fallen creation?

Tomorrow we drive to Botswana to camp out under a sky full of stars, somewhere in the bush.