African Safari I stand in the middle of an african plain. Paras my guide, the man who has already saved my #life, gestures to some animal droppings, "polkoku", he rumbles. The droppings are large, brown & stacked. He clicks with his tongue, "Pk-t-cha",: move on, move fast. We may not speak the same language but the body language is unmistakable, "t-t-t-t-charrr". The day is coming to an end, the sun reluctantly setting over the broad horizon, sweeping it's soft yellow light across the landscape. "r-r-r-r-reeee-buurrrr", Paras has found our campsite for the night. It looks dangerously exposed. I mention this to him. "Co-co-c-c-c" he chides. I've learnt that word over the course of the week; it has no exact translation, but means roughly: cowardly prat. The fire is high, it could almost be called a bonfire. Paras seems to think there is no risk from a bear attack. I retain my suspicions and grab the torch from my tent. The intention is that bears don't like direct light, but I'm concerned I've confused this with vampires. In any case I could clobber the bear with the torch, which is a maglight and very sturdy. Paras is sitting very close to the fire; he doesn't seem to notice it's warmth. His dark eyes seem to be penetrating the flames, the very Earth, staring into another place & time. Paras lets off wind, then coughs as the smoke engulfs him. He keeps coughing. He runs to the tent & comes back with some herbal remedy, a yellow substance in a square. He puts it gently over his tongue, swallows, and then briefly winces. As he places the packet back into his pocket, I read a label on the side: Nurofen cold & flu.
