So there we were, our safari van parked parallel to the hippo filled Ihema Lake in Rwanda, about 30 yards from the water’s edge. I was sitting inside the van, on the driver’s side, farther from the water. Three people from our team had decided to get out to take pictures of the hippos, along with our guide.
Now, I must say, I’ve probably read one too many articles about Africans being killed by hippos at the edge of a lake, because I was not feeling comfortable with anyone getting out of the van. I decided to stay where it was safe (at least until I had adequate time to assess the situation and feel a little more secure about getting out.)
However, sitting in the van made it difficult to take video and pictures through the windows. Therefore, my new mission team friend, John, and I decided to sit in the open windows of the driver’s side with our backs to the bush. This allowed us to look over the top of the van to shoot video and pictures. This was working well, I thought. I felt safe, but I was also in a great position to get pictures of the hippos.
Suddenly, however, in my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of a large animal JUMPING through the driver’s open window into his lap! The driver instinctively — out of pure adrenaline rush — tossed the animal right back out and onto the ground. It was then that I realized it was a large baboon. When the baboon hit the ground, he looked directly at John and me, searching for another entrance into the van, namely the windows we happened to be sitting in. In less than a second, John and I were back inside the van, closing those windows. Meanwhile our three team members viewing the lake, had no idea what was going on. We quickly yelled at them to get back in the vehicle.
Our guide, a 5’2″ Rwandan woman (who, by the way, had nothing with which to defend us except her two-way radio), Pastor Emmanuel (our team leader), and Steve (father of our 19 year old photographer) were still not sure what all the crazy commotion in the van was about. They had yet to see that the baboon had circled around the back of the van to approach the open door on their side. Shelli, the photographer, was farthest from the van, still snapping shots of the hippos.
I could see Steve clearly from where I was, and I knew what he, as a father, was thinking as he became aware of the situation. He was ready to do whatever he had to do to get his girl into the van. So, he did just that; he picked up a red and white ice chest off the ground, and in a firm defensive stance, held it in front of him like a shield — with the absolute commitment to use it, as necessary, against that baboon.
By this time, everyone outside the van was finally aware of the baboon and making their way inside, except for Steve who stood with ice chest raised, ready for battle. Thankfully, there was no need for a demonstration of man vs. baboon on this trip. Shelli was safely ensconced into the vehicle, quickly followed by her dad… and the baboon sat and pouted, outside of our safari van.
