In the Beginning, My Life with Ndoto, Around Africa in a Forty Year Old Land Rover

If You are Willing to Live with Snakes and Hippos, Dreams do Come True

     “Remember,” Scott said seriously, “don’t get too excited about it. The asking price is way too high. Find flaws. Whatever you do, don’t say you love it.”

     “I know, I know. I’ll keep quiet while you do the negotiating,” I promised as we climbed out of Ndoto and greeted the man who had placed the For Sale ad. Then, I set eyes on the tent.

     “Oh my. It’s perfect!” I said aloud. “I love it.”

     Scott rolled his eyes and said through pursed lips, “Geez, Tris.”

     “I heard your old Landy coming up the road,” said the South African with the smug smile of one who owns a Toyota Land Cruiser. Or maybe he was smiling because I’d just clinched the deal for him. “Series III, right? They sure aren’t stealthy.”

     “No. But they’re strong.” I said defensively.

     “Of course they are.”

     As soon as he unzipped the rain fly, I climbed up the ladder and into the tent. I could hardly contain my satisfaction. It was the rooftop tent of my dreams.

     Scott forced a cough in order to muffle the sounds of contentment coming from inside the tent. I hung my head out the opening to watch Scott do what he does best while he circled what might be our bedroom for a year. He turned to the owner of the only second-hand Hannibal rooftop tent for sale in a five hundred kilometer radius and went into bargaining mode.

     “I don’t know if this one will work for us.” Scott said, pulling on his ear lobe. He did another lap. God, the man has patience. I flopped on my back and stretched out in the idyllic little tent. I sighed, imagining our first night sleeping in it.

     “I would have to modify the rack on our Landy to make the tent fit.” Scott continued, trying to talk over my bliss. “Why are you selling?” he added. Hey, yeah, why would someone sell such a perfect tent? I poked my head back out the opening.

     The owner looked at the ground. Then he looked at me and saw that it wouldn’t matter what he said.

     “Well, you see, my wife doesn’t like to have to climb down the ladder at night, you know, when she has to relieve her bladder. She’s afraid of snakes.”

     Wait a minute. Snakes weren’t in my dream. Snakes terrify me almost as much as hippos. After mosquitoes, which cause malaria, hippos are the most dangerous animals in Africa.

     “Plus,” the owner added chuckling, “she always thinks there’s a hippo lurking at the bottom of the ladder.”

     I backed out of the tent and climbed down the ladder. I hadn’t thought about the need to pee between sundown and sunrise with hippos and snakes.

     Scott and I walked a short distance away to discuss the realities of sleeping under canvas on the roof of our Land Rover in the wild for a year. I was still sold on the tent-on-the-roof concept and thought our journey would not be complete without it. He wanted to take time to consider other sleeping options. We both agreed that, unlike the previous owners of our Landy, we did not want to sleep inside the car.

     “Setting up a tent on the ground every night will just be a big hassle and take up so much space inside the car,” I said. “I have an idea. We’ll train our bladders. We’ll make a practice of not having any liquid after 6 PM so we won’t have to worry about getting up in the night. How about that?”

     We negotiated a suitable snake and hippo discount with the owner and bought the tent. Our dream, to explore Africa in an old Land Rover with a rooftop tent, was finally coming true.