Into Africa; giraffes roaming at ease in the garden of the gods
I attended the International Association for Mission Studies (IAMS) General Assembly and Conference at the University of South Africa in Johannesburg, July 16-26. There, I presented a paper in the Gender and Mission study group. Once the academic sessions concluded, I flew to the Skukuza area to reach Kruger National Park, setting off on an afternoon safari tour.
The following morning at 6:30 a.m., we embarked on another safari, climbing into the same rugged, military-style open vehicle as the day before. Dawn held a piercing chill. Lacking windows and a roof, the vehicle cut through the air, sending biting gusts of wind from all directions that felt like sharp blows against my face and chest. Endless plains unfolded to the horizon, leaving me to marvel at how human hands had managed to carve roads through such a vast, untamed expanse. Now and then, the vehicle veered off onto winding tracks in search of wildlife. Along the roadside and nestled in the thickets, herds of impala — graceful, deer-like animals — appeared.
At one point, we witnessed a raw moment of survival in the dense brush: a lion brought down an impala, and in the chaos, a hyena snatched a hunk of meat and slunk away. It was a scene straight out of a nature documentary, yet the sharp, terrifying growls of the predators claiming their prey made it startlingly real. Amid the frenzy, several lions burst from the scrub and bolted across the dirt road, moving far too swiftly for my camera to capture. In the riverbeds, dried and shrunken by the dry season, an occasional crocodile lay still. Further along, we encountered giraffes. Our vehicle slowed to a complete halt to grant them right of way. Towering and unhurried, they crossed with majestic ease, as if silently declaring, ‘We are the true masters of this land.’ Whenever the engine fell quiet, only the desolate wind whined across the open wilderness — a sound so hollow it felt as though living here would mean knowing profound loneliness.
I was taken back to my childhood, reminded of watching Tarzan or the Indiana Jones films on TV. I thought of Tarzan, Jane and Cheetah, dwelling in this limitless wilderness, fashioning homes and clothes from wood and foliage and living with the animals. I also recalled Indiana Jones set out in search of treasure in rugged, untouched regions, facing all manner of adventure and adversity. The safari guides and drivers, too, were sturdy men wearing the sort of beige short-sleeved shirts and shorts seen in films like Tarzan.
For a moment I had the playful feeling of having become a brave adventurer exploring this massive wild. Our vehicle drove swiftly on without rest, sometimes over rough tracks, shaking heavily. Outside the car I saw the horizon where the earth meets the sky. It was amazing, a sight I had never seen before. The broad, untamed, natural expense, untouched by human hands, gave me the feeling of being in a garden of the gods. In places, strange-shaped trees with white trunks and boughs stood bent upon the plains. It felt as if the scene remained exactly as it had in primeval times.
Lee Nan-hee studied English and Theology at Hanshin University.