Page 63 of Serenity
This wasn’t camping. This was glamping.
A large chalet tent suite comprised our private lodging. Modern in style and resembling an A-frame house, the tents were made with a unique blend of traditional building methods, canvas, and safari styling by employing the surrounding local communities.
A private indoor and outdoor shower was available to us alongside air conditioning, a ceiling fan, a television, Wi-Fi, an in-room safe, a minibar, and a telephone. Adorned with Ghanaian décor and modern furnishings, the chalet’s quality both stunned and appealed to me.
“Must you be so perfect?” I asked Duke after doing a second and third once-over of the chalet.
“Woah, baby. Don’t hold me to that standard.”
“You are perfect. Perfect for me.”
“I’m not perfect, Bee. I just think ahead and plan really well. I had to push the safari to tomorrow since these,” he paused, running his hands affectionately through my braids—“goddess tresses took away several hours from our commute time. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” I smiled, inching toward the bed and laying back on what felt like heaven. Paired with the sun and the activities of our morning and early afternoon, my energy was thoroughly depleted.
Stripped down to bare skin, Duke and I showered and collapsed in bed afterward, not bothering with the nuisance of clothes. Far too drained for sexual activity, we spooned and drifted off to sleep.
The shrill of baboons and various bird species summoned me from slumber. Their calls were endless, absent any regard for tiresome souls. Rising before the sun, I stretched, yawned, and sought my favorite person as of late.
Fully dressed in khakis, a polo, and hiking boots, I located Duke in the bathroom.
“Good morning,” he greeted amidst a glob of spit and toothpaste he freed and immediately cleared from the sink.
From behind, I wrapped my arms around him, interlocking my fingers in place and offering no words. Slowly and assuredly, physical touch was becoming a staple on a growing list of desires for how to begin my day. That skin-to-skin contact with Duke was as potent as a cup of blackened coffee.
BABOONED, LARABANGA, GHANA
Passing the almond oil with vanilla essential oil infused in it, I encouraged Serenity to oil her legs up to prevent mosquito bites. Dressed in khaki shorts, a cutoff tank, and hiking boots, she looked edible as fuck. The bucket hat on her head topped her safari fit off perfectly. As I watched her oil her skin, it took everything in me not to drag her to one of the restrooms at the back of the lodge to be stuffed with dick.
Oatmeal, bacon, and fruit filled our bellies for breakfast down at the lodge. Our safari guide and park ranger, Adi, met us shortly after for our morning expedition. A list of cautionary instructions was provided prior to our adventure.
Remain inside the vehicle, do not feed the animals, no alcohol or illegal drugs, avoid unethical animal interaction, and follow the guide at all times.
Adi broke down the reasoning behind his rules alongside a set of various situational examples of why said rules were important and what happened to guests who avoided listening. After the not-so-brief discourse, Serenity and I loaded into the safari jeep alongside four others —a Ghanaian family visiting from Moscow— and we were off on our adventure before the day graced our limbs.
A distant sun colored the horizon in striking hues of peach, pink, and periwinkle. A chorus of birds and baboons serenaded our ears as Adi and his assistant drove us deeper into the grassy woodland. The large expanse of grass carpeted most of the land, interrupted only by scattered shrubs and trees. We’d started before the sun rose, but as it slowly awakened, the earth warmed, giving us little reprieve as it did.
“If you see here,” Adi pointed. “Elephant tracks,” he whispered, prompting Serenity to beam with excitement. That shit was becoming one of the many things I lived for.
Maybe it was the reduced stress, the heightened communication, or the growing emotional connection, but traveling with Bee was swiftly becoming one of my favorite pastimes. I loved that shit.
Our crew exited the safari jeep. Quietly, we treaded behind Adi to the massive tracks of a small group of elephants nearby. On bated breath, we watched one of the bull members of the herd snap a tree in half with little effort to obtain the fruit from its branches. The largest land mammal walking on earth was both majestic and graceful. Being able to witness them so up close and personal outside of a zoo was an adventure a nigga was happy as fuck to share with Bee.
Our expedition continued with a glimpse of several warthogs trotting through a brush of jungle. Adi pointed out shea fruit, from which shea butter is made, growing from several trees. For the duration of our safari, we saw over ten subspecies of African elephants and a herd of antelope.
After the safari, Serenity and I opted to get a second, more substantial breakfast than the oatmeal from several hours earlier. A restaurant near a lookout point over the savanna would suffice. The scenic location offered a view of elephants bathing in a watering hole.
“Take some pictures of me, Duke.”
Shoving her phone in my hand, Serenity stepped near the lookout point and posed. Fulfilling the request, I snapped over fifty photos before she summoned me to join her side. With her purse resting nearby, we accosted a member of the Ghanaian family to snap several photos of us against a backdrop of the savanna and elephants.
The phone was returned to us shortly after, and Serenity—not paying much attention to her surroundings—tugged me by hand toward the restaurant, which promised to fill our bellies.
Fried plantain and egg comprised our second breakfast. Silently, we ate, attesting to how hungry we’d been since the morning.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Swiping food from my mouth with a napkin, I probed.
“I did,” she beamed, biting into a forkful of pancakes. “Was that your first safari?”