Safari Sickness
He had avoided illnesses caused by microscopic organisms but then took a ride on the largest land animal in the world.
The word “safari” brings to mind the open savannah with vast tracts of blue sky, giraffes eating the tops of trees, lions lying on a low mound observing their prey, and herds of zebras trotting across the plain. For me, however, the word conjures a queasy feeling. Safari means motion sickness, being showered with stream water, and oxygen deprivation.
I had traveled for five weeks in India and managed to stay free of illness the whole time. I put this down to luck more than anything, though drinking four liters of water a day to stay hydrated is definitely a good policy for any visitor. But somehow, as I crossed the border into Nepal, I had a feeling my luck would change. The first inkling came when I realized that Nepal is actually fifteen minutes ahead of Indian time. My first day was spent assuming all the clocks were wrong and that seeing the airport bus disappearing into the distance and having shop doors locked and bolted in my face were unfortunate coincidences.
On my second day, with my watch set correctly after checking with the hotel concierge, I headed to Chitwan National Park to go on safari. This was going to be a special day spent on the back of an elephant looking for rhinos. However, my luck was about to change. There was a shortage of elephants and so we tourists had to go four per elephant plus the mahout on the animal’s back. In other words, there was a tourist at each corner of the elephant, not that our animal seemed to mind as he was a large beast with the most enormous expressive green eyes. Our mahout welcomed us onboard his elephant, whose name was Major. We were given our pre-flight instructions, which essentially were to hang on and make sure that we didn’t fall off. We had to keep our feet braced against a rope hanging from the animal’s saddle and we all sat with another rope looped around us.
After we settled down, the mahout shouted “Major Go” and the elephant departed in search of rhinos. It quickly became apparent that the elephant was very heavy-footed and every foot placement was a shock to the system. He also had one leg that seemed shorter than the others so that he had a rolling gait, which may seem funny but it meant that not only was I being shocked but there was a circular motion which gradually induced motion sickness in me.
After ten minutes Major felt hungry and so stopped and ate a large bush in three trunkfuls. Mercifully, my queasiness eased as Major ate brunch. The driver informed us that Major usually ate around 100 pounds of vegetative matter per day, a very high-fiber diet. We were soon off again and the rolling and shocking started again.
Soon Major was thirsty, so he headed for a small stream and sucked up a ten-yard stretch in a matter of seconds. As an encore he raised his trunk vertically in the air and blew out the last two yards of water so that we tourists were treated to our own mini-monsoon. He trumpeted slightly. He was happy, we weren’t.
Major was off again. After five minutes he stopped once more and this time he raised his tail vertically. What goes in must eventually come out especially with a high-fiber diet. The stench was horrible though I managed to hold my breath for the whole time. However, Major stayed in the same spot after finishing as though he was savoring the occasion and so I had to breathe in this horrible smell. There wasn’t much oxygen around and I began to feel sick; luckily Major moved and some fresh air entered my lungs saving me … for the moment.
The mahout spotted a rhino and off we went at a trot, with the circular motion now giving me a headache. Major stopped abruptly five yards from the rhino, who’d had his horn cut off by the park authorities to save him from poachers. Major was wary of the rhino who sniffed the air suspiciously before continuing to eat.
After ten minutes admiring the rhino we trotted away and entered a jungle clearing. The air was perfectly still. Major stopped again. A profound gurgling came from inside the elephant and he lifted his tail again. This time he broke wind for longer than I could hold my breath. I suffered from oxygen deprivation and the methane entered my lungs, making me gag.
My luck has taken a huge turn for the worse, I thought, being gassed on the back of an elephant—who would have thought it possible? I had avoided illnesses caused by microscopic organisms on holiday and here I was being made ill by the largest land animal in the world. The irony wasn’t totally lost on me as my head lolled on my chest as we headed back to our base. I felt nauseous, had a bad headache, and knew I was going to be sick. I crawled off Major, smiled wanly at the mahout, and almost made it back to my cabin.
The doctor came to see me and thought I might have cholera. He ignored my weak excuses that I had been gassed on the back of an elephant; he said being slightly delirious was a sign of possible cholera and told me to stay in bed for the rest of the day.
The following day I was fine but when I was offered another safari I politely declined.
So, if you ever go into the bush on an elephant, do sit at the front, and if possible measure its legs just to make sure they are all the same length.
Julian Worker has written on architecture for the U. S. magazine Skipping Stones and had travel articles published in The Globe and Mail, Fate Magazine, The Vancouver Sun, and Northwest Travel. He blogs about travel on the In The Know Traveler website and his work has appeared online on the World and I, Offbeat Travel, and GoNomad websites. He has also taken many photographs that have appeared in travel guides by National Geographic, Thomas Cook and The Rough Guides. India is his favorite country as a travel destination.