The late 1800s saw the so-called “scramble for Africa,” as various European armies equipped with the latest military hardware seized enormous parcels of the continent from villagers who could only defend themselves with spears and daggers.  The most heroic resistance came from the kingdom of the Zulus, a warrior culture in the spectacular eastern coast of South Africa (now the province of Kwazulu-Natal), which in 1879 inflicted on the British Empire a shattering defeat.

In January of that year, a five-pronged redcoat army invaded Zululand to oust its king Cetshwayo.  But the commanding general, Lord Chelmsford, an arrogant and smug aristocrat, radically underestimated his enemy.  The Zulu warriors, called impis, were actually an organized and disciplined force, who could cover huge distances on foot and wield their assegais (short stabbing spears) to deadly effect.

On the morning of January 22nd, British scouts at one of the main British camps at Isandlwana were horrified to see a force of 20,000 Zulus gathering in the traditional “buffalo horn” formation used to outflank defenders.  The battle raged all day, ending in fierce hand-to-hand fighting.  By dusk, the British camp had been wiped out, with over 1,300 redcoats dead, many gathered in a series of desperate “last stands.”  Days later, another army of 4,000 Zulus surrounded a mission station at Rorke’s Drift, where a mere 139 soldiers were holed up.  This time, the British were able to stave off the attack.  But the larger invasion had been defeated, and the British withdrew.  The news was greeted in London with shock and horror.

Sadly for the Zulus, the British Empire could not allow such a humiliation to stand, and soldiers returned the next year with a much larger force, capturing King Cetshwayo.  The Zulu king was exiled to London for several years, where he became a minor celebrity and met with Queen Victoria.  He returned to his home in 1883 as a puppet leader, but died soon after.

Rising sheer from the grassy plains at the rim of the Equator is one of the most famous sights in Africa – the snow-covered Mount Kilimanjaro, which is, as Hemingway wrote, “as wide as all the world, great, high and unbelievably white.”  The 19,340-foot high peak was consigned to Tanzania during the Berlin Conference of 1885, when the colonial European powers were slicing up Africa like a giant pie.

Evidently, Queen Victoria gave the mountain as a gift to her nephew, the German Kaiser Wilhelm, because “he likes everything that is tall and big.”  Its long history as a mountain climber’s dream began in 1889, when a trio of German amateurs conquered the summit on their third attempt.

Today, some 25,000 people a year make the strenuous, five-day ascent, but many more enjoy it from afar as an integral part of the classic East African landscape.  Kilimanjaro also lies in the heart of the continent’s largest concentration of wildlife, within a stone’s throw of the Serengeti plains.  It is also sacred to the most famous tribal group of East Africa, the Masai, tall, stately figures with their red togas and distended earlobes, who continue to drive herds of cattle as they have for centuries.  Throughout the 19th century, the Masai were known to the West only by reputation – as the fiercest, most implacable warriors in Africa’s interior.  In 1883, the first white explorers to actually meet them, Joseph Thomson, recorded: “We soon set our eyes upon the dreaded warriors that had been so long the subject of my waking dreams, and I could not but involuntarily exclaim, ‘What splendid fellows!’ as I surveyed a band of the most peculiar race of men to be found in Africa.”

Today, the Masai still look impressive, but their traditional lifestyle is changing.  Young warriors no longer wear the lion’s mane over their heads, for example.  The adornment was once seen as a sign of bravery, but the lion is now protected – and, like Mount Kilimanjaro, a crucial part of Tanzania’s tourist economy.

Whether you want to shop in the bazaars of the bustling African cities, ride a camel in the African desert, or quietly spy a leopard in the wild, you’ll find the experience you’re looking for on a vacation in Africa.

The golden age of the safari was the 1930s, when East Africa was regarded by many as one big khaki cocktail circuit, and the Long Bar of the Norfolk Hotel in Nairobi, Kenya was its riotous heart.  The list of celebrity guests at the Long Bar says it all: Isak Dinesen, author of Out of Africa; her husband, Baron Bror von Blixen; her lover Denys Finch-Hatton; the blueblood huntress Vivienne de Watteville; film star Gary Cooper; novelist Ernest Hemingway – the social cream of the Western world stopped by for their chilled Tusker beers before heading into the savannah.

Sometimes the festivities got out of control.  On one occasion, crusty English hunters brought their horses into the hotel’s mock-Tudor dining room and tried to leap across the tables without disturbing the silver.  When the distressed manager attempted to stop serving drinks, revelers tossed him into the meat locker and bolted the door.  Of this group, it was Ernest Hemingway who most influenced our view of safari life.  One of his most popular novels, The Green Hills of Africa, was written after his first visit to Kenya in 1933, which he loved despite a bout of dysentery.  On his return trip to Africa in 1954, he was involved in two light airplane crashes, the second time barely escaping as the craft erupted into flames.  But he never regretted it.

Today, visiting any of the Kenyan game parks, you can still see why.  Out in the wild, you can imagine how those early safaris must have felt for Teddy, Karen, Earnest and friends – and realize that Carl Jung wasn’t just babbling when he described the African dawn as “the stillness of the early beginning, the world as it has always been.”

The first great wildlife-watching expedition in Africa was made by a British amateur naturalist named Cornwallis Harris, who crossed the Transvaal of South Africa in 1836 in an ox-wagon, sketching gemsbok and stalking kudu.  But the word “safari” only appeared in the English language in the late 19th century.  Its origins were Arabic: safara, to unveil or discover, before becoming safari, the Swahili noun for any journey, which was adopted in English for any long ‘sporting expedition’ in Africa.

Many of the first safaris were actually conducted by professional ivory hunters, mostly English upper crust residents of Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda, who collected thousands of elephant tusks to be turned into piano keys and billiard balls in Europe.  The most famous was Frederick Selous, who became the model for Allan Quartermain, the hero in H. Rider Haggard’s adventure story, King Solomon’s Mines.  (In the Hollywood version, he is played by the stalwart Stewart Granger).  Leisure travelers soon followed.

In 1892, the British aristocrats Lord Randolph Churchill went on safari and brought with him 20 tons of baggage, including a piano and a dozen crates of Bollinger champagne.  A few years later, former US president Teddy Roosevelt stalked East Africa for nine months accompanied by 500 Swahili porters, shooting some 4,900 mammals, 4,000 birds and 2,000 reptiles for the Smithsonian Museum.  But perhaps the most influential expedition is the least known today.  In 1903, an obsessive young German named C.G. Schillings led the first ‘photo-safari’ in history.  Instead of high-powered rifles, Schilling’s porters lugged enormous crates full of unwieldy camera equipment and glass plate negatives (some of which were 16×20 inches).

The low-tech photo shoot was not entirely a success.  Kilos of magnesium powder were needed for the flashes that would illuminate each photo, even during the day.  Schillings’ camera lenses were so short that he had to use live cows as bait, to attract lions within shooting range.  But he started a trend.  While hunting safaris continued to be popular even into the 1960s, wildlife is now protected in East Africa.  Visitors now roar along the dirt trails in 4WD jeeps, wielding 200 mm Nikon lenses instead of Winchester rifles.  Even the most amateur shutterbug can capture better photos than poor Herr Schillings – although perhaps with less of a story to tell.

For centuries, European travelers to Africa refused to believe the rumors about the majestic Victoria Falls, which Arab mapmakers called “the end of the world.”  The first white person to behold them was the explorer Dr. David Livingstone in 1855, after a grueling four-year journey along the Zambezi River.  Livingstone was flabbergasted by the thunderous cataracts, writing that “scenes so lovely must have been seen by angels in their flight.”

At the time, the interior of Africa was a vast blank space on the map, and unraveling its tantalizing mysteries would inspire a string of Victorian explorers to endure Biblical suffering and deprivations.  They included such eccentrics as Richard Burton, who was the first translator of One Thousand and One Nights and the Kama Sutra, and Richard Speke, who went temporarily deaf when he removed a beetle from his ear with a knife, and suffered a smorgasbord of tropical diseases, one of which turned him blind for months.  But Dr. Livingstone has gone down as the most obsessive and masochistic of the bunch.  A former missionary, he felt it his religious duty to open up the “dark continent” and spent 30 years on a series of expeditions with only a few native porters as company.  On one occasion, he was mauled by a lion and only escaped by feigning death.  Livingstone occasionally emerged from the wild to lecture on his discoveries in London and denounce the evil slave trade that was devastating Central Africa.  Increasingly hampered by malaria, he disappeared for several years in the late 1860s, inspiring a rescue mission by another crazed explorer, Henry Morton Stanley, who walked 7,000 miles in brutal conditions to find Livingstone near Lake Tanganyika in modern Tanzania.

There has long been doubt whether Stanley really said his famous words, “Dr Livingstone I presume,” when he finally greeted the doctor.  But historians now think it probable, and that Livingstone smiled broadly and replied, “Yes, that is my name.”  Livingstone was delighted by the encounter, which he said filled him with new energy and hope. But he refused to abandon his mission.  He died two years later in the jungle – although his frail body was brought back for a hero’s burial in London.

Wild and historic Africa awaits you!  Join us and shop in the bazaars of bustling African cities, ride a camel in the African desert, or quietly spy on a leopard in its natural habitat.  Whatever you choose, you’ll have the experience of a lifetime!

Don’t just visit the most awe-inspiring sites of Africa, but re-live the stories that have been told for generations.  Experience the breathtaking scenery of Victoria Falls and ride a cable car to the top of Table Mountain for panoramic views.  And, don’t leave before taking a safari through Samburu National Reserve where you’ll see lions, leopards, elephants, rhinos, and more!

So grab your camera and hang on tight if you dare! The history of ancient Africa is coming to life and the magnificent wildlife is already waiting!