So There I Was; eyes in the dark. by Mike Deluca

So there I was…

…frozen between fear and excitement in the immediate presence of such a prehistoric and potentially dangerous creature.  With the absence of moonlight, the darkness that surrounded me was suffocating and I clung to the beam of light produced by my headlamp like a man-overboard to his rescue line.   My fear prevented me from both movement and breath.  Instead I focused on the beam, which was intern, focused on two reflecting diamonds in front of a mass of bulky shadow.  Those eerie shinning eyes peered back at me uncertainly.  They occasionally looked away as if searching for a means of escape, only to focus right back to mine. 

In hindsight, I probably should have turned the light off, but I was too afraid to loose sight of those eyes.  I knew that I could not walk any closer because I might provoke it, but neither could I turn and run.  I was already too close.  Running, even moving, could spook it into chasing me.  And it would undoubtedly win the race.  There was only one thing I could do.  Freeze.  With my whole being I silently urged those eyes away.  It needed to know I was of no threat and become tired of the stalemate.  I had no other move except stillness and patience, but every second made my knees weak and my heart pound.  The jungle walled me in on either side impenetrably, and the road was not wide enough for us both to cross.  It would have to turn back, crash through the jungle, or crash through me.  But how long until it decided?  The road to my camp was only a short distance away, a few hundred yards maybe, but those eyes prevented me from approaching any closer. So there I was, frozen.

Many weeks back, Therese and I had planned this trip within a trip.  The school we were volunteering with was on holiday and if we were going to do any in-country travel, this was our best window.  We set-out for a cross-country road trip through Uganda.  Very exciting!  Our trip would take us from the eastern border with Kenya north where Uganda borders South Sudan, then south-west along the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo, (formerly known as Zaire and arguably the most lawless dangerous failed state of Africa) before rounding south-west to the capital in Kampala and the coast of Lake Victoria.  The trip, done almost entirely by public transport, (which is an adventure in and of itself) introduced us to many interesting people and took us to many exciting places. 

Arguably the most notable being Murchison Falls National Park, Uganda’s largest protected area at 3,840 square kilometers.  It’s biggest attraction, and namesake, being Murchison Falls; a narrow cleft between two ancient unmovable rocks where the great Nile River passes with a thunderous fury.  In addition, it hosts an abundance of wildlife not seen in North America except behind bars or stuffed and mounted on walls.  The parks history is almost as turbulent as the falls for which it is named.  Senseless rebel activity by the lunatics of the Lords Resistance Army (LRA) in the north spilled into the park, closing it for most of the beginning to the 21^st century.  Poaching dwindled its numbers but in recent years the rebels have been pushed out into the Congo and the numbers have begun to rebound. 

After a day of touring the park and its unbelievable assortment of wildlife, Therese and I went outside the lodge where we were camped to find a place to eat.  The “canteens” are local little spots in the park where local people (park rangers, lodge staff, drivers) go to get local meals (rice, beans, matoke) and pay local prices (25%- 50% of what whites pay in lodges/camps).  We knew of a place not far from our camp that we had seen the day before and set out at dusk.  We found the spot and ate a great hot meal with cold beer (Nile Special of course).  It was also in a haphazardly constructed bamboo hut with plastic lawn chairs and no lights.  I used my headlamp with my water bottle to make a shaky bluish lantern from which to see our food.  I noticed we were the only “muzungus” present and almost everyone else was Park Staff.  They seemed to take absolutely no notice of us in the corner with our funny little light. 

As we finished eating darkness set in.  The change over from day to night happens in an instant in equatorial Africa; or so it seems.  It’s as if all the light from the sun is sucked to the other side of the world once the sun makes its journey over the horizon.  By the time we were ready to leave, the sun was gone and the moon had set with it.  Furthermore, thick cloud cover even snuffed out the stars! 

We had our headlight, and as we walked back to camp we half jokingly reminded each other of the dangers that existed outside.  But one in particular concerned us most.  We new the big cats (lions, leopards, cheetahs) were active at night, but they were mostly on the other side of the Nile from us.  Granted, we were only about a half a km from the bank, but those cats don’t swim.  Something else does though; something that kills more Africans than any other.  To be fair, it kills less people than malaria mosquitoes or humans with machetes, Kalashnikovs, or automobiles.  Regardless, what really concerned us at that moment was a Hippopotamus encounter! And that is exactly the situation we found ourselves in!

Weighing up to a ton or more and capable of reaching speeds up to 40 kilometers an hour on land, a hippo is a force to be reckoned with.  They are even more dangerous in water where they are good swimmers, thanks to their webbed feet, and can be extremely territorial.  Their ivory teeth can grow up to a foot long while their jaw has the power to snap through bone like it was a pencil.  Not particularly bright, they are spooked easily and apparently mow down anything in their way. 

All of these warnings I had heard about previously and now they raced through my mind as quickly as my heart pounded in my chest.  Time, like me, was frozen. My eyes locked and my body tensed with anticipation.  My stomach released a familiar little gurgle of adrenaline erupting into my chest, sending my body a shot of energy that seemed to shiver with electricity.  Or maybe the “gurgle” was me about to shit myself and the electric shiver was actually body shaking with fear.  Who can say?  All I know was that I kept my focus on that beam of light as it reflected the shimmer of those eyes back to us.

Then, as if it had finally made its decision, it turned and lumbered off into the jungle by some unseen path on its way back to the river.  I took my first breath in an eternity and quickly walked the short distance back to the camp.  I walked straight to the bar and ordered a double shot of cheap Ugandan Bond 7 whiskey, which I have taken to calling a “007”, but really only with Therese because no one else would get it.  She remains thoroughly unimpressed.  After my hand stopped shaking I told the African bartender James, a good man who literally grew up inside the park, my harrowing encounter.  He smiled that warm white-toothy smile that I have grown quite accustomed to in recent months, and congratulated me.  He very quickly moved on with his evening and not another word regarding the incident was uttered.

Now, many days later, and a whole host of additional adventures had, I am back in the stunning mountains of Bududa.  After more than 9 days traveling there and back again, those familiar mountains have come to feel like home.  The feeling of relief and appreciation I felt when Therese finally pushed open the cast iron door to our home and the lantern’s warm light filled the room was sublime.  Our overland travel was hard and uncomfortable.  It was a true adventure, and in the paraphrased words of my man Mark Twain, the experience was great, partly because it was worth doing but chiefly because I know that I shall never have to do it again.  Perhaps there is no better way of summarizing a close encounter with a hippo in the dark moonless night of the African bush.