Never let a good story get in the way of the truth: Africa Bites, story 12 (Down at the Boat Station) and Confessions of an African Safari Guide, story 34 (Diminishing Returns)
Either you sit there on a five hour game drive in awful discomfort, in that particular kind of pain that cries, no, begs, for relief, and just gets worse and worse with every bump and lump in the road, or you can go. Just go! It’s your choice, and you should choose wisely, because your whole long morning will depend upon it.
If you really want to be coy about watering the good earth, and refuse to use anything except good old fashioned porcelain, don’t come crying to me. I’m an instant gratification kind of guy. Lots of coffee, feel the pressure, pick your spot, and let it go. I like to have it all.
Because guess what? Once you start with the bush pee, you never go back. It’s liberating.
Take this migration business. Bloody wildebeest everywhere. And zebras too. It’s just black and white and blue wherever you look. They just keep coming over the hill. And they’re popular, viewing, those things. Plenty of other safari vehicles about. So there’s no privacy. People love to watch them, these crazy animals, madly wandering the grasslands in search of food, bawling and romping and running aimlessly around in long lines (the wildebeest, not the people) and plunging into crocodile infested rivers, you know what I’m talking about. But listen my friends, don’t be afraid, when that coffee converts into acid-water in your bladder and wants OUT, and there are wildebeest milling about, well, there’s no news like new gnus…so hop out, spread ‘em, and just let go. Never mind the Migration, folk, it’s the kind of freedom that will make your safari.
That’s what I’m talking about!
