There is a monkey at the next
table. He just hopped up there; now he sits a few feet away from me and reaches
for a plate of leftover fruit. This is one particular monkey: He evaluates the
free slice of melon with the keen eye of a produce inspector before popping it
into his mouth. He likes it. In the background, the low rumble of Victoria
Falls thunders as it plunges 300 feet into a nearby gorge, sending
streams of mist above the tallest trees. This is my last day here, and I am
about to leave for the airport and start a Tanzanian safari. I have been
traveling around Zimbabwe
and Botswana
with some friends from Chicago for
the past two weeks, but now I’m dining alone on the grassy terrace of the Ilala Lodge. I point
out the freeloading monkey to the nearest waiter, but he only nods and smiles
as if to say, “Yes. You have correctly identified a monkey.” According to the guidebook, the agile simian
with the grayish-green body and the long tail is a vervet,
which often grows fearless around hotels and campgrounds and can become a
nuisance if allowed to forage tableside. As part of his complete breakfast, the
monkey picks at a half-eaten muffin and slurps milk from a bowl of cereal.
Finished with his table, he stands on his haunches to get a better look at what
I’m having and appraises my buffet selection. He appears to weigh the
implications of hopping over here now that he’s cleaned his plate, and our eyes
lock as I take a slow-motion bite of fresh fruit. This is when it hits me that I am no longer
on a well-supervised Zambezi River
trip with my buddies from Chicago.
I am traveling through The Dark Continent, alone. The butterflies in my stomach
are almost the size of kori bustards,
Africa’s heaviest flying birds, which tip the scales at
a whopping 42 pounds. According to the guidebook, the kori
bustard prefers open country and strides across the savanna searching for
lizards, insects and seeds. His call is a resonant, ominous “oooom.” A voice inside my head makes this sound just as the
monkey makes a false charge for my mango.