Thursday Afternoon 18th September
It was not yet midday on our third full day, and we were following yet another pride of lions. Good grief, we must have seen every lion in Africa!
This lot was a pride with problems.
Their condition was graded poor to hopeless.
The youngest were emaciated.
The three nominal heads of the family, these males, simply looked on awaiting their true masters call.
Everyone else was moving on. I guess we must do so too.
If in doubt, hug a tree.
We moved on past this pride in search of my frequent need. The w.c.
There were none around here. We were, after all, deep in the wilderness.
We eventually found a new camp hidden in a valley. Despite it looking deserted, we did finally find someone to give me permission to dispose of my overburden.
While sitting there admiring the view (as is possible in many Serengeti camp toilets) I could see a pride of lions moving across the other side of a pool. I hoped that they weren't attracted by the odour emitted by my current predicament.
They passed on by, possibly to avoid said odour?
On leaving this camp we tracked them to a different bog. They had managed to find lunch while I was, ahem, busy.
From here we headed to open savannah on the edge of the Serengeti. Here it truly seems endless. Flat savannah for miles, short dead-looking grass, empty and endless. It would have been easy to spot any wildlife if it had been there.
As we approached the border, there was noticeable amounts of garbage, plastic bags etc, strewn over the naked savannah. Was this the work of undisciplined tourists? Nope, it was due to a Maasai tribe next to the border.
We picked up some of this rubbish and deposited it in front of the tribespeople instructing them to clean up or else. Only afterwards did Ian explain how aggressive they could be. They had spears. We had Maasai blankets.
There was a dearth of wildlife here, so we continued on.
It was getting late when we came back into the area with the Kopjes and came across the 'Rock Pride'.
Here were cubs in pretty good condition considering that we were at the end of the dry season.
The cubs were playing and feeding.
The mothers were not always too appreciative of that.
Love and hate.
The cubs began to come together.
There was an astounding number of them.
Twenty cubs all in the same pride!
Astounding. Yet, somehow different. Somehow strange. Somehow... a portent of things to come?
It is true that, despite lions being the kings of the jungle (and just about everywhere else), their young do not all survive into adulthood. Only twenty to twenty-five percent survive that long.
Some die due to lack of food, sometimes to predation (for instance, to hyenas aka the evil henchmen) sometimes to hunters of the human kind, and sometimes to other male lions coming into their territory and trying to take over by killing the cubs. This form of behaviour is seen in many species.
Be careful who you let into your home.
But.
There does seem to be another cause. Something that I believe has not been documented before. We were to bear witness to this horror the very next day. It was to be, for us, more than just a significant moment. More than disturbing. It was something totally unfathomable. A bit like Trump only worse. Yes, worse. What we were to see the next day was to be appalling, shocking, leaving me stunned...
Be prepared.
Unlike this guy, he could not give a s**t
He may be known as king, but, as usual, he took no part in what was to follow, apart from being a bored observer.
We headed back, and were once more en route to be late for dinner at camp, stopping by the compulsory cheetah (or two)...
A peaceful sunset scene.
Before the horror to come.
Next, chapter 11: Murder Most Foul.
