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The Best Part of Africa Might Not Be What You Expect
When most people think of an African safari, they picture lions stalking through tall grass, elephants crossing dusty roads, and perhaps a leopard lounging in a tree. And to be fair, those moments are every bit as incredible as advertised. But somewhere between the game drives, the wildlife sightings, and the endless photography sessions, something else happens.
People start talking. People start laughing. People start sharing stories.
The animals may be what bring people to Africa.
The people are often what they remember.
An Evening Braai in the Bush
One evening, our three safari vehicles rolled into a clearing in the woods that had been prepared for a traditional South African braai (pronounced “bry,” rhyming with “cry”).
Now, if you’re American, you might hear “barbecue” and immediately think about food.
South Africans think about people.
A braai is certainly about cooking, but it is also about gathering. The fire becomes the center of the evening. Food arrives when it arrives. Conversations drift where they drift. Nobody seems to be in a hurry.
The destination isn’t the meal. The destination is the experience.
As we climbed out of the vehicles, we found chairs arranged around a large fire pit. The sun was beginning to set, the air had cooled, and our hosts were already preparing drinks.
It wasn’t dinner yet. It was a whole event. One part was the social gathering, one part cultural experience, and one part celebration of the adventure we were all sharing.
Springbokkies, Bush Babies, and a Toast to New Friends
As we settled into our seats, our hosts introduced us to several local spirits and liqueurs.
One cocktail was called a Springbokkie, named after South Africa’s famous national rugby team. The layered double shot combined peppermint liqueur with Amarula cream. The liquids did not mix and the colors were those of the rugby team. We were told to drink the entire shot, taking it in and allowing it to mix in our mouths. It was delicious.
Another favorite was called a Bush Baby, a sweet dessert-like drink featuring chocolate and cream liqueurs. This one also did not mix in the glass, but exploded across the taste buds.
A toast was offered, then another. Stories from the day’s game drives were shared. People compared photographs. We debated favorite animal sightings and swapped travel stories from around the world.
Looking around the circle, it was hard to remember that most of us had only met a few days earlier. Travel does that sometimes. Especially when you’ve spent time searching for the big five together.
Chef Pila and South African Hospitality
Eventually dinner was served.
Throughout our stay, Chef Pila and his team had consistently impressed us with meals that somehow managed to be both comforting and adventurous. What stood out wasn’t simply the quality of the food. It was the care behind it.
Chef Pila and his staff made sure everyone had something they could enjoy. The braai was no exception. Despite being held out in the bush, away from the main lodge kitchen, special meals still appeared for those who needed them. Nobody was treated like an inconvenience. Nobody was left wondering what they could eat. Everyone left feeling satisfied.
Throughout, questions about ingredients were welcomed. Stories about local dishes were shared. Staff members took the time to explain what was being served and how it was prepared.
That level of hospitality doesn’t happen by accident. It comes from people who genuinely care about their guests. The meal became another opportunity to learn something about South Africa. And perhaps that’s one of the things that made Hippo Lakes special.
The staff didn’t simply provide a vacation. They shared a piece of their culture.
Stories Around the Fire
The braai wasn’t the only evening spent around a fire.
Back at the lodge, many of us would gather after dinner, enjoying the cooler temperatures and reflecting on the day’s adventures at the fire pit.
One evening, the conversation drifted, as campfire conversations often do, toward ghost stories.
Brantley, her family, and several friends were encouraged to begin. She took “center stage”, putting on a show. As she described the wind howling through dark hallways, others around the fire provided sound effects. When a disembodied cough appeared in the story, someone across the circle offered a perfectly timed cough.
The interruptions only made the stories better. Soon everyone was laughing as much as shivering.
There was a pause and I offered to tell a story or two of my own. My offer was met with enthusiasm. So, I started with a story from Scotland.
Years ago, Teresa and I joined a ghost walk through Edinburgh, Scotland. The guide was excellent and had everyone hanging on every word. Eventually we arrived at one of the city’s supposedly haunted underground sites, the Catacombs, and while the guide was building toward the dramatic climax of the story, I stepped back to take photographs. I was hoping to capture a “lens flare”, a “ghost”. The story teller was now close to the climax, so I stepped forward. As she said, “some people feel that hand on their shoulder”, I reached out and placed my hand on Teresa’s shoulder.
It was not Teresa.
The woman turned and unleashed a scream so powerful that it probably qualified as a sonic weapon. I jumped back. She jumped back. Everyone jumped back.
As it turned out, this woman was wearing a coat and hat remarkably similar to Teresa’s, who was standing several people away.
The guide’s carefully crafted spooky atmosphere immediately collapsed as the entire group burst into laughter. I had no idea, but I guess the spirit just moved me.
The Lady of Lumley Castle
Once everyone around the fire recovered from that story, I offered another. I assured them what I was about to tell them was true. Or at least, I still don’t have a better explanation for it.
I told the group that this happened on that same trip.
Our next stop was Lumley Castle, an old English castle that now serves as a hotel and carries a reputation for being haunted.
We had reservations for the King Suite, located on the top floor of the castle and if stories were to be believed, where the most hauntings took place.
Before going to bed, the heavy drapes and curtains were closed tightly. Teresa is fairly modest, and we both preferred a dark room for sleeping. Once the lights were out, the room became completely black.
Sometime during the night, I woke up.
Standing at the foot of the bed was a woman. Not glowing exactly, but surrounded by a warm, soft light that seemed to come from nowhere.
She appeared calm. I remember wondering whether I should be afraid or whether I was still dreaming, I even asked out loud, “Am I dreaming?”
The figure stopped, turned to me and spoke directly to me. Now, I do not speak French, but I had no doubt that is what she spoke.
I glanced over to confirm Teresa was still asleep beside me. She was, sound asleep.
When I looked back, the woman continued across the room and passed through the closed door.
The glow faded. The room returned to darkness. And somehow, without fear, I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I paused, just for a moment, letting them think it was the end of the story.
Taking a breath, and then told the ending.
The next morning, Teresa woke me and asked why I had opened the curtains during the night.
I told her I hadn’t. She pointed toward the window.
The drapes were open.
The tie securing them used a knot neither of us recognized. It certainly wasn’t one I knew how to tie.
Maybe Teresa opened them.
Maybe one of us sleepwalked.
Maybe there is another explanation.
I honestly don’t know. I told her of the dream, the encounter, whatever she was. And, to this day, we wonder, where we visited by the Lady of Lumley?
Another pause, a nod and a bow showed them that I was through. As always, I get a reaction. Some are bewildered, some perplexed. A few people even applauded that night.
And, several admitted they had assumed the story happened to someone else, not the person sitting across the fire from them.
The Friends We Made Along the Way
One of the unexpected joys of travel is the people you meet.
Throughout the trip, we spent time with fellow travelers from different backgrounds, different states, and different walks of life.
Yet by the end of the week, those differences seemed far less important than the experiences we shared.
We had watched elephants together.
Tracked predators together.
Celebrated wildlife sightings together.
Sat around fires together.
And somewhere along the way, strangers became friends.
Some of those friendships continue today through WhatsApp messages, shared photographs, and occasional check-ins.
Not bad for a group of people who hadn’t known each other a week earlier.
Looking Ahead
Eventually the conversations fade.
The drinks are finished. The stories run out. The last embers settle into glowing coals. And one by one, everyone heads back to their rooms. But the night isn’t over.
Because once the fire dies down, Africa reveals a completely different side of itself.
The sounds change. The shadows deepen. The stars emerge. And tomorrow, we’ll discover that some of Africa’s greatest wonders only appear after dark.