Safari with a disability:
Embrace the unknown

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By Jan Bonville

Is there any feeling like waking up at dawn, a hot coffee to dispel the early morning chill, and going out into the savannah’s pearly morning light in an open-air jeep, looking out for the predators that only venture forth in the cool of early morning or dusk, the gentle-eyed gazelle, statuesque giraffes, majestic elephant herds, and hearing the calls of the brightly colored birds perched on the acacia and thorn trees?

For as far as the eye can see, there is nothing other than open grassland and brush, speckled occasionally with lakes and thorn and acacia trees. In the quiet, the scent of the earth and fragrance of the trees blend, bringing a profound sense of peace and connection to the wild. If you love nature, wildlife, and the outdoors, there is little that matches the feeling of an East African safari.

For those of us with disabilities, bucket-list items like an African safari are all too often an early casualty of the paring down of dreams that happens as we struggle with strength, energy, movement and logistics overall. A family safari was always on my bucket list. I myself grew up in East Africa as a third culture kid. Raising my own family in California, with children who loved the outdoors and nature and were always sensitive to the awe and beauty of animals, I had always wanted to expose them to this experience. Yet, at the same time as my children were getting to an age where we could travel internationally, my own physical abilities were surely and steadily declining. I was getting more tired, had trouble with spasticity, fatigue and pain and most importantly could no longer walk unassisted. Yet, time was running out to go to these areas. We all have a limited window of time with our young adult and teen children, and I wanted to fulfill this dream.

I love planning trips almost as much as going on them. Yet, for a person with MS and a mobility disability like mine, the planning and travel process for a complicated, faraway destination, always includes stress and anxiety. These are not wealthy countries and there is nothing as formal as the ADA in place. As in every trip I take- in any country including here in the US- I was concerned about my wheelchair. I wasn’t sure how I would get up and down the narrow stairs of the small bush planes, manage the rough grounds of the lodges, deal with the jeeps, and in general, have a good experience. If you are able-bodied, do you ever pause to think about things like, getting into and out of a plane? Getting into and out of cars? Going up and down stairs? Probably not, but why would you? But I need to think about and plan every moment of every day: from the time I get up in the morning, getting out of bed safely with the spasticity that comes with MS, transferring safely to the toilet, making sure I empty my bladder before going out on a drive, getting into and out of a Jeep safely. Every day is like an obstacle course and requires energy and concentration.

It’s easy to understand why many of us with disabilities hardly leave home, let alone venture into something like a safari on a faraway continent. Sometimes the anxiety, the fear and the unpredictability, take over and can seriously spoil if not outright ruin, the enjoyment.

Yet the reward at the end of the obstacle course is immense: the opportunity to experience the true East African safari, be out in the wild, smell the fresh air and revel in the endless horizon, see the majestic herds grazing peacefully, and, most of all, build memories with family. Was it worth all the trouble, hassle, and the potential risk – because there is that, too? This cost- benefit calculation will differ for everybody, but for me, the answer is a resounding yes.

Safari is not without its challenges. Landing at Kilimanjaro International Airport, a small airport, there was no gangway from the airplane to the airport. I waited until everybody disembarked as I always do. Tanzania is not a wealthy country in term of GDP but is one of the friendliest and certainly one of the most beautiful. The airport staff brought a very comfortable platform lift for me to descend in my wheelchair. In the customs line, a complete stranger solicitously approached me and offered to show me where the accessible restroom was. That’s right- in this small airport, in a remote area, there was an accessible restroom in the airport. Perhaps not accessible in the purest sense of the word but it had a ramp, a bar that could be constituted as a grab, but most importantly, somebody had thought about it and took the time to tell me! I found the same thoughtfulness wherever I went. Our driver had provided a step for me to enter the Jeep and allowed me to sit up front with him, something that is not usually done as it was easier for me than sitting in the back. The country is bordered by multiple others including Rwanda which suffered from a war in the 1990s. There are a significant number of people with injuries and amputations. While this does not necessarily translate into perfect infrastructure for people with disabilities, it does mean an attitude of acceptance and welcome.

One of the most memorable experiences we had was the Ngorongoro Crater. The drive to the Ngorongoro Crater feels like a transport to a different time, with lush, misty forests, and birds hidden in the foliage. After a significantly long drive through the otherworldly landscape, one comes to the viewpoint overlooking the huge, intact volcanic crater, with grassy plains and teeming with wildlife, forest and lakes. The Crater is one of the natural Wonders of the World and for good reason. It is truly awe inspiring to see the dramatic drop of the walls and the plains below. After a winding drive, we ended at our camp on the rim: a small, unpretentious scattering of 10-12 tents throughout the acacia trees, blending into the surreal landscape of beige, gold, green and brown.

I’d been allotted the tent closest to the dining room to prevent me from having to move too far. Inside the tent -a canvas tent – they had placed, very thoughtfully, a plastic chair for me to hold on to- good enough for me with my level of ability. As with most tented camps though, the dining tent had a step up to enter. I could do it but with difficulty. The next day, when we woke up for our early morning game drive the camp had placed a homemade wooden ramp – just for me, put together with nails and roughhewn wood. Not exactly an ADA standard ramp for a building in San Francisco but, they were trying to help me and were thinking about me and my needs. In this camp, in a very remote part of the world with subpar infrastructure I felt more welcome and included than I have felt at times in state-of-the-art high-tech buildings in my hometown in San Francisco.

A trip to Africa is not for everyone. You need to be ready to face the unexpected: for example, the time it takes to get places, the lack of infrastructure, rough roads, being out in the elements, the uncertainty. You will need to communicate very carefully with your travel agent and/ or the hotel what your needs are. I had to be very clear about communicating that I was not bound to the wheelchair and was able to go up and down steps albeit very slowly and with difficulty; and that I did need assistance almost everywhere: going into and out of the planes, being able to use the shower and bathroom safely, needing help to enter and exit a jeep. There were times when the drives took a lot longer than expected and it was hard to hold my bladder. There were times when it was hard to take a shower. I am nervous about restrooms and had to take every opportunity I could to use a clean, semi-accessible one. And it’s annoying, and it’s unfair, that what is so easy and does not require a second thought from most people, for me, involves so much mental and physical effort and energy. There were times I dearly missed my comfortable and accessible bedroom and bathroom.

But I had not crossed half the world to end up in something resembling my own house. My goal was to experience safari with my children and show them this fabulous world. That involved going out of my comfort zone- and with a disability on top of that- fully embracing the unknown and taking a risk. Descending into the Crater for the early morning drive, listening to the birds, seeing the elephants lumbering quietly, the big cats sleeping contentedly after their night of hunting, and the flamingos scattered along the lake. Returning to the camp to have a drink in front of the acacias, illuminated in an otherworldly light from the setting sun. All this and more, creates lifelong memories.

To those of us who are disabled and dream of going on an African safari: don’t give up on your travel dreams. Any of them. Accept that it will be more difficult, that you must do more research, put in more work and that you may not be able to do everything that you’ve dreamed of. But I would venture that there is nobody, anywhere, disabled or not, who has never had to give up on some of their dreams, because life happens. Life changes, the world changes and therefore our plans need to adjust. You may be the first person with a disability to show up at a remote camp in the middle of the savannah—I’m pretty sure I was, at least at one of these lodges. That’s scary but also cool! Someone has to be the first! Why not you?!

So long as you keep an open mind and realize that things may not go exactly according to plan in a new, unknown location, why not? If you don’t try, you will never know what could have been.