Dear Diary,
This is so embarrazzing. I don't know what I was thinking. Okay, that's not true. I do know what I was thinking. I wanted to get away from them.
My parents.
They're constantly bickering about petty shit and even now, when we're here in this perfectly picturesque place, they can't stop for five minutes. I tried to go to my room, shut them out but their voices are too loud and this Airbnb is too small. So I got into my dad's stash of weed brownies and ate a whole one. I thought it'd make me too high to pay attention.
Boy was I wrong.
Instead of floating me off to cloud nine like I'd seen it do in the movies, it just enhanced everything; sight, sound, hearing, fears, anxieties, insecurities...I felt like I was drowning in every thought I'd ever had. I had to get out. So I climbed out of the window and ran.
Yeah I know, we're in the middle of a damned National Park, there are animals and shit, and I ran out into the wilderness at dusk.
Stupid stupid stupid.
On the bright side, my senses are so overwhelmed with so many sensations that it's hard to focus on just one. So I push away the anxiety and instead marvel at the way the light falls on the leaves in the trees, the wind soughing through them, making them sway in a way that almost communicates something to me. Like they're commiserating or warning me.
I know I sound like a crackhead, leave me alone.
Suddenly there's a ummm, a boy? in front of me. He's really dark-skinned and all muscle. I know because he's wearing nothing more than a piece of red cloth tied at the shoulder, his chest is mostly on display save the multicoloured beads that crisscross it. His legs all long, lean and muscled are also on display. He's wearing black sandals that seem to be made out of the same rubber as car tyres.
He's holding a stick and surveying me as if I'm the exotic thing around here.
I scramble around for the little Kiswahili I'd read in the travel brochure. "Er, jambo...?"
His lips twisted as if he wanted to smirk but was restraining himself. "Unafanya nini hapa?" he said.
"Er..." to be honest, Jambo is the only word I know. My dad is from here but he emigrated to the States years ago and he didn't bother to teach me his local language. Or rather, from the many fights my parents have, I guess it's a clash of beliefs. My mother believes that we should grow up as Americans and not try to integrate any other cultures, while my dad goes along with it but resents the fuck out of her because of it.
So here I am, somewhere in the Maasai Mara and I can't speak the language. I am in so much shit!
The man? boy? huffs before saying, "What are you doing here?" in perfect English.
I won't lie, I was taken aback. I mean yeah I've seen the Twitter memes making fun of how much Americans don't know about the rest of the world but I truly was not expecting to find a...relic of another age who could speak perfectly to me in my language.
Don't tell me how stupid I am. I know.
"Er, I'm lost I think. I'm staying at Chui House, d-do you know it?"
The male specimen nodded.
"Er, I'm Angela. What's your name?" I had to stop calling him man-boy.
"Letoya."
"Oh. Hey Letoya." I smiled nervously, waving my hand at him like a dork, "It's nice to meet you."
Suddenly there was a huge shadow looming over him. My eyes widened in shock and I looked up to the shadow and then down to Letoya, wondering if I was tripping balls or he could see it too. He remained unmoved which was worrying on many levels.
"Er..." my voice shook with fear, "Is there er, an elephant behind you?"
Letoya just smiled and then pointed to the north, "If you follow this path, you'll find the lodge. It's not far."
"B-but...the elephant...?" I stretched my shaking hand, pointing at the huge shadow behind him.
"She will not harm you. Go."
I just continued pointing and shaking. She seemed to fill the entirety of my vision, coming out of the mist like an avenging angel. She could kill me with a swish of her trunk. My knees were weak, I doubted they could support me for much longer, let alone let me walk.
Letoya made an impatient sound and the next thing I knew, I was hoisted over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, bouncing up and down as he strode down the path he'd directed me to. I kept my eyes on the elephant who seemed to be watching the whole scene with something like amusement. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I felt as if I could see every wrinkle, every whorl, every crease, every blemish in her flesh. She stood out from nature like a god, and I, a worm that did not deserve to look her in the face.
"Oh God," I murmured, "Have I lost my mind?"
Letoya put me down and turned me around and I saw the place we were staying, looking serene in the soft rosy evening light, no sign of the strife that awaited me inside. I turned to my rescuer. "Thank you."
He nodded before turning and disappearing down the path and into the mist. I blinked a few times, looking around and then I began to wonder if I'd imagined the whole thing.
I turned to the house, still unsure of anything and everything. Out of the night, came a loud trumpeting which seemed to echo along the hills. My head jerked around, limbs flailing before I tripped over my own feet.
I sat on my ass, in the dirt, breathing hard. "Fuck. I am so high."
I promised my Instagram followers a story on the first of January based on the pic of the elephant. And here it is. Enjoy. Accompanying podcast to follow. Click on the link at the top of the page to listen.
