In the mid to late 90s, whilst growing up, I read many comics. Those filled with African tales got my mind racing. On a rainy December morning in 2016, as I set foot on a plane bound for Cape Town, I knew; a childhood dream was to come reality. In the Western Cape of South Africa, I witnessed more than I could imagine as a child. 

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We set off on our evening drive with the iconic Lion King shot dancing in my mind; ball of fire low in the horizon, majestic umbrella thorn acacia and giraffes playing shadow games in the savanna. In an open jeep, dirt kicking up, a burning hot fading sun, borrowed binoculars in hand, a pulse racing a little faster than usual, the scent of dry grass after a long summer day enveloping us and a profound sense of respect for our surroundings; my African dream starts.

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My wild African tale is made of moments such as walking up a stony hill in dead silence, tip toeing meters from a cheetah feasting under a bush.

Witnessing two of Mother Earth’s giants facing off. In the two young lion brothers' eyes you could see a sparkle of excitement as they looked at each other and decided to scare themselves with challenging a huge rhino to a stand off.

Kicking up dust, the rhino stood its ground, ready to charge.

A tale of a herd of zebra in rebellion. The loud kicking noise resonating in our ears. Long white teeth seeking to bite into each others necks, to establish dominance. 

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One morning, the distant roar of the king of the Savanna vibrating through the atmosphere reached a bathing hippopotamus’s ear; as comfortable as he seemed, quickly, he gathered his thoughts and headed for the cover of the distant bush.

Hearing branches being torn off, chewed and then witnessing a great herd of elephants rise from the dry river bed in total silence, I will forever rest the senseless French expression ‘marcher comme un éléphant’.

Majestic giraffes, rhinos built like Swedish Volvos and marching buffalos close off my wild African tale.