 Ballooning
over the Serengeti
By Elisha Mayallah
An early morning wake-up call, signaled the start of yet another incredibly
beautiful African day, as we were driven by three Land Rovers to a ballooning
‘airport' ready to realize our dream for a balloon safari. When the early
morning hush was pierced by the flaming burners the hot air in the balloon's
shell, which was slightly lighter than the surrounding cold atmosphere, would
lift us. The land sank away, flattening into a yellow carpet dotted with vague
green and brown markings of vegetation and wildlife.
When the material started flinching and twitching, the burners were ignited and
the balloons slowly stretched and swelled to their full size, eventually heaving
off the ground like awakening giants. Once upright, they pulled up the baskets
and we scrambled inside. The balloons tugged and pulled at the ropes, eager to
be released into freedom.
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The dream was steadily
ending as we neared the ground, which rushed by hypnotically as we
landed. |
We floated into the Serengeti National Park passing the stripes
of grazing zebra, a herd of trotting topi and two hyenas moving awkwardly along.
Grant's gazelle fled the phantom image of the balloon, their white rumps
bouncing over the plain grass. And, from the air, the graceful gait of a family
of giraffe resembled a patch of long-stemmed speckled flowers swaying in the
breeze.
An emphatic "Ooh my Gaaaad" signalled an important sighting. We could clearly
see four of the big five moving in different directions: two leopards looking
like boulders in the grass, a herd of buffalo sniffing the air for signs of
danger which, unknown to them, was lurking on the other side of the balloon's
shadow - a pride of lion. We ascended over the party of elephant and John
quipped: "We have to keep our distance over those - elephant have a complex
about anything bigger than themselves."
Rising with the crimson sun between the acacias, the yellow and orange balloon
huffed and puffed skyward as the ferocious flames from the gas burners blasted a
gust of hot air into its hollow belly.
We followed the sun as it climbed the sky on shafts of clouds. The silver moon
surrendered, and faded away in the face of the growing glow of the sun, whose
rays were gradually painting the vast Serengeti plains a golden hue.
Our balloon had to go where the wind took it. But the winds at different heights
blew in varying directions enabling our pilot to choose our height and, hence,
our direction. And so we rose and fell, dreamlike, now floating up high, then
drifting only metres above the ground.
We skimmed over the dense dark-green canopy of riverine forest on our way to the
Grumeti River, one of the permanent water sources in the 14,763 square kms of
the Serengeti National Park. There was a gasp of awestruck sighs when we first
caught sight of the meandering river. Its dramatic U-bends and curves cleaved
the ground so perfectly that one tourist asked whether it had been carved by
humans.
The inquiring eyes and nostrils of several hippos surfaced and a basking
crocodile snapped open its jaws. "He probably thought his picnic hamper had just
been couriered in," joked John.
"Well, unfortunately time flies when you're flying in a balloon." John was
preparing us for the fact that our flight was nearing an end. "Pack away your
cameras and get ready to land."
A hurried flurry of clicked-clicks rolled off as we tried to capture the last
images of the splendour from the air. One by one we reluctantly lowered
ourselves down inside the basket and gripped the handles as we dragged and
bumped over the tough tufts of grass. "Oh look," giggled an American tourist
when the balloon stopped on its side and we were on our backs, "we're hanging on
like little bats."
For the 80 minutes our pilot poured forth an unending flow of information,
anecdotes and witticisms. The dream was steadily ending as we neared the ground,
which rushed by hypnotically as we landed.
Twelve passengers settled down at the lavishly set table, a Maasai spear pinned
into the ground at each corner. Champagne was deftly poured in a continuous
sweep into the silver goblets by a waiter. We were later treated to coffee with
an assortment of pastries, a real hearty breakfast indeed!
We were each handed a certificate showing "symptoms shown during flight: terror,
boredom, hysteria, courage or euphoria". All the men received a tick for courage
and the women for euphoria.
As we were returning to our lodge, many of us wished - if only we could, would
spend a full day floating in the boundless sky over an excellent wilderness with
the wind quietly whispering the patient pulse of the endless land!
E-mail contact: ermayallah@yahoo.com
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