I Dreamed of Africa

In ’96 Gerrie and I lived in a place where we woke up every morning to the gentle sounds of bells. From the window of our little upstairs room, we could see a field and in that field were sheep. The bells were worn by some of the flock. We actually have one that we purchased in Gruyéres. Yes, the place they named the cheese for. Also out that window and just to the left we could see the French Alps.

One has to wonder at times how they can be so fortunate. Here we were in a place, attending our discipleship training school, preparing to serve as foreign missionaries, that was so beautiful and so placid. We were blessed. 

In fact, we have been blessed to be in a variety of places; some very beautiful and some that are so, well, not places you’d go if you were a tourist. We’ve experienced the shear magnitude of mountains walking through the Alps and the barrenness of a sweeping moor on visits to the southwest of England. We’ve walked along the rugged coast of the Celtic Sea and strolled along the quiet waterfront of a North Sea inlet. We’ve walked the dusty roads of Uganda and the wide sidewalks of the Champs Elysees. The streets of Central London are as familiar to us as the streets of our neighborhood. And there are many places here in the States and in Tennessee that are magnificent.

We’ve been asked, where is the most beautiful place you’ve even been? My wife would tell you Switzerland. I would answer, Zimbabwe.

We flew to Zimbabwe in late May. Looking out the window of the plane we witnessed a unique sunrise. It wasn’t the gradual blending of deep reds, through orange and yellow into light, but it had an almost layered effect. Each color seemed to painted on the horizon in its own hue eventually rising through deep blues, indigos upward into blackness. It was incredible. 

The morning in Harare was cool. We were met by our hostess and driven to the house we’d be staying in. Harare was much like other African cities I had been to, not that I have been to many. The streets were congested with traffic, both motorized and with people on foot. It was well tended in some areas and given to varying levels of depression in others. This was all economics. The more affluent an area was, and there were not many, the better kept it was. 

What was striking, what stood out, was the people. When we were in Uganda the conditions were often deplorable, especially by Western standards. But the people are marvelous. Their hospitality is unbelievable! Their spirit is unquenchable! What little they have, they offer to you. I have never before met a people so open and so giving. In contrast, the people of Harare were isolated. The whites seemed to always be skeptical and on guard. The non-whites would rarely raise their eyes to meet you. Such oppression. It was difficult for Gerrie and me.

While we were in country we had the opportunity to take a day safari on a game preserve just east of Harare. Once I left the city I entered the Africa that I dreamed of.  It is vast. It is rugged. It is raw. It is breathtaking!

I was in Africa!

Under an incredible blue sky we rode on the backs of elephants to a stand of acacia trees. Nearby stood a granite koppie. Nestled in the shade was a table with a white linen cloth set with tea and biscuits. This was our breakfast. Finishing our tea, we canoed up the lake to where an open truck waited for us. In the back of the truck we headed out onto the savannah. There we saw zebra, wildebeest, kudu, gazelle, impala, and one the most dangerous animals in Africa, the water buffalo. After a while we started up a small hill. About halfway up the hill stood covered dining area and this  was where we stopped and had lunch. Again, a wonderful setting. One that a person can only imagine. 

Our afternoon was spent seeing other areas of the savannah. At one place we stopped and I walked through the tall grass until I was nearly close enough to touch a giraffe. 

Before we headed back to the city we visited one last area of the preserve. An area  enclosed by high fencing. There were several acres enclosed. Inside were the big cats; one of which was named Brian. Brian was aged male lion. He liked to have his mane petted and when he knew that guest were near he would come over to the fence line and slam his body against it. This put his body and his mane right to the fence and there, you could just stick your fingers tips (not the whole finger, after all, he is still a lion) through the chain link and touch the mane of a lion. Brian would stand still for moment. Then he’d walk away. He’d yawn. We’d see his teeth and how large is bite was. Then he’d come back to fence, slam his body against it and we’d pet him again. This, I will never forget!

I once dreamed of Africa and I have been blessed to have visited there twice in my life. I dream of going back some day. I dream of someday riding in the back of an open truck across the  savannah and of having tea in the shade of an acacia tree. I dream of walking through the tall grasses or beside a still lake. I dream of taking a nap under a sky so blue that it defies description and of laying on my back gazing up at the Southern Cross until I fall asleep. 

These are things I dream of.