“You are white,” said the Gatekeeper of the Maasai Mara National Park. I admired his firm grasp of visual details but decided not to respond. “So, you are a tourist, which means that the entrance fee will be $80 per person per day,” he pressed on. I remained silent. I had a strategy. Maasai Mara National Park, Musiara Gate, April 2012
When entering negotiations - anywhere in the world, by the way - on a mediocre scale with mentally sub standard humanoids but involving considerable amounts of bribes it is best to keep your mouth tightly shut.
This, I learned, plants the seed of insecurity in the intellect in question and shake the frail foundation of his "self assumed" authority. By letting his announcements fruitlessly linger in midair without gracing them with your attention you slowly gain the upper hand of the upcoming debate.
Basic human psychology dictates that people who make a verbal statement expect to elicit a reaction of some sort from their opponent.
If they fail to achieve their desired results by not receiving any response, naturally, doubts and the fear of overreach start to creep into their minds.
“The car will cost an additional $30 a day,” he added weakly. By now, the guard was visibly shaken by my open defiance of his dominion and apparent lack of cooperation.
I decided it was about time to acknowledge his presence at least.
“Who is in charge here? It obviously can’t be you, so where is your superior?” , I demanded.
The guard helplessly pointed to a small office behind the massive entrance gate.
I slowly opened the door and stepped out of the car. A group of Maasai women, babies in their arms to empathise dire needs, swarmed our vehicle in hopes of selling us horribly overpriced souvenirs and supposed antique heirlooms, which had, in all probability been manufactured just yesterday in North Korea.
Confident in my wife’s capabilities to face hardship I left her to deal with them while I turned my attention to the Head Guard, who cautiously observed me as I approached his office - more of a shack with a desk, really.
An opening excerpt from What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Chronicles of Chaos and Courage remains available here. The full book can be ordered here.
Veracity in the Dark, Vol. 2: Fire, Delusion, and the Pre-Monsoon Ego Boost
Behold the man who started a fire in the African bush and instantly declared himself wilderness royalty.
The Land Rover’s already cursed, Nicole’s likely Googling divorce lawyers, and somewhere in the trees, a baboon is calling bullshit.
But in this moment?
I was a God.
A cold, damp, mosquito-bitten god…with damp socks and unjustified swagger.
🔥 Certified wilderness moment.
Pending disaster.
Nicole Romdane, Bush Pilot Wife and Reluctant Wildlife Hostage
Kenya Safari. Hippos. Existential dread.
Nicole, loyal co-pilot in the Romdane Travel Tales saga, stands one sarcastic eyebrow away from tossing herself into a hippo pool and letting nature sort it out.
Behind her: wildlife.
In front of her: the spiritual wreckage of another bush pilot detour gone wrong.
Welcome to "What Could Possibly Go Wrong?"
This isn’t romance.
This is emotionally flammable eco-tourism.
And she didn’t sign the waiver.
The Landlord Arrives. With Tusks.
This seven-ton wrecking ball wrapped in wrinkled leather graced our campsite with the kind of casual arrogance only nature’s true royalty can muster.
No warning.
No rent invoice.
Just silent judgment and the looming possibility of flattening our cutlery drawer with one gentle sneeze.
He didn’t charge. He didn’t need to. He was the charge.
We were just squatters—armed with mosquito repellent, optimism, and the delusional belief that tent canvas counts as protection.
From What Could Possibly Go Wrong?, the book that proves it did. Often. With tusks.
💀 The memoir that makes your problems feel like foreplay. 💀
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