I can’t sleep.
I keep turning over on my camp bed, set up in the middle of the wild. Something unfamiliar is unsettling me.
Emotions mix within me, oscillating between excitement and a touch of apprehension at the thought of spending the night in an environment so different from anything I know.
But what an idea, setting up camp here. For atmosphere, it certainly delivers.
When Moses, our guide, showed us where we were to camp, I stood there, stunned.
After walking for four hours among sausage trees and marula trees, following the dry bed of the Nsolo River, we climbed this hill overlooking South Luangwa National Park.
As reassuring as it was protective, it gave us a sense of command over the elements. A feeling that soon faded… Here and there, we could count numerous tracks left by passing animals.
All around, scattered or clustered, a few bushes seemed to reach for the sky, marking their territory. I knew they would be ready to protect us should anything intrude on our flimsy camp during the night.
As the minutes passed around the wood fire, sitting still, taking in the whole wild expanse before me, the colours began to shift. The change was imperceptible at first, then grew more pronounced as the sun decided to set. And then the shift happened. Blue turned to orange. Pale at first, as though not wanting to intrude. Then a deeper orange, streaked by the sharper lines drawn by the clouds. Meanwhile, the green thickened into a brown that merged with the African earth.
The sunset did not bring silence. It put an end to the day’s bustle and commotion, but gave way to another kind, just as intense and mysterious, because unseen.
And night drew near, slowly wrapping us in its dark benevolence.
A crescent moon finished its course at the horizon, like the end of one reign giving way to another dynasty. The bushes around us came alive under this mystic glow. Their foliage stood out with grace, creating a fascinating interplay of shadow and light. I felt enveloped by this atmosphere, as though plunged into a fairy tale.
That’s when I understood why I was there.
Funny thing. You don’t make an appointment with nature. She decides. She offers herself to you if you wish to see her. She gives herself, simply, fully aware. Like a child reaching out its arms to you. You cannot resist her. She is just there, that’s all.
So I met her, every sense wide awake. And from our silent conversation came a deep sense of well-being. At the same time, it was strange. I had already lost my bearings setting foot on this African soil, but here I was somewhere else entirely. I had come home.
The darker the night, the more beautiful it becomes.
An almost palpable darkness settles around me. That’s when I feel it. It resonates all the way into my ears. It fills my head. Drumbeats, heavy and intense. Am I the only one who hears them? My heart beats faster than usual, swept along by a whirl of conflicting sensations.
I look around. A few shadows linger around the campfire. I recognise Moses, mechanically stoking the flames. Without a sound.
The air is thick with unfamiliar scents, a mix of warm earth, wild grasses and settling humidity. The smell of the bush seeps into my nostrils.
As does fear, muted and insistent, creeping into me. The strange sounds of the African night echo in the darkness, unfamiliar cries and mysterious hisses. I shiver, feeling the vulnerability of my situation. The shifting shadows in the bushes seem to come alive, suggesting invisible predators prowling in the dark. My senses are on high alert, every rustle makes me jump, every sound makes me hold my breath. I’m about to be swallowed by the night.
It’s at that moment that I look up at the sky, as if offering a prayer that might dispel my fears.
And there, before me, unfolds a breathtaking sight.
Thousands of stars shimmer with incredible intensity, forming an endless celestial vault. The Milky Way stretches across the sky, a band of shimmering white light that seems to vanish into infinity. Embers from the campfire rise into the sky, and myriad sparks join the river of stars. I have never seen so many in my life. Timid ones, proud ones, solitary ones, monstrous shooting stars that last two, three seconds before fading, as though swallowed by infinity. The light pollution of cities cannot rival the purity and brilliance of this unadorned night. I lose myself contemplating constellations I don’t recognise. Orion and the Southern Cross are each a mystery.
I am in awe of this celestial beauty. I cannot look away.
This sky is an invitation to embrace the unknown, to celebrate the vastness of the Universe and to recognise my place within this cosmic symphony. I simply let myself be carried by the magic of the moment. I sigh and breathe deeply, as if trying to capture within me a little of this quiet beauty.
I realise that this night under the stars is far more than a simple experience. It is a journey toward infinite horizons.
The constellations shift. The spherical shape of the celestial vault becomes distinct. And there, I sense that it is not the sky turning, but the Earth. It’s a dizzying sensation, hard to explain.
As the night goes on, a strange sense of pleasure begins to mingle with my fear. I feel alive in a way I have never felt before. This immensity brings me back to what matters. I focus on what is essential and feel more inspired by this moment of fulfilment. My thoughts break free. I float in space. I am deeply connected to nature. To myself. A moment of grace.
This galactic ocean offers me a ballet of lights that lulls and soothes me. It is a timeless moment, during which I sink, nostalgic, into my happiest and gentlest memories.
My internal clock seems to align itself with the Universe, tuning into its rhythm. I become one with it. I am one of its atoms, scattered into infinity.
A grain of sand in the cosmic ocean.
© Text: Christian Stefani
© Images: Time + Tide
