The Silent Heart of Africa.

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The African sun scorched down upon us, as we limped across the dehydrated twig-like blades of grass that lay beneath our feet. Sweat ran down my face, over every pore and escarpment, until it reached my chin, where it dripped anxiously onto the ever-begging grass. It was my first day in the Kruger National Park. My legs were scarred with scratches and bruises, my back felt as if it was going to crack into two pieces and every struggling heartbeat made my head thump in unbearable pain.

As I awoke the following morning to the sight of fleabites all over my body, I was extremely grateful to notice that today our views of the African Safari would be held from the safe, luxurious comfort of an open-air tour bus. I grabbed my binoculars and digital camera and as I left the hut, I felt I was ready to experience the thrilling adventure and untainted magnificence of African culture, one that is so pure and unadulterated by modern society, a culture so unrestricted, a culture that holds a deep, hidden inner beauty, that only blind men can see.

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The morning dew hung gently upon the edge of every blade of grass like a bed of sparkling diamonds. The rising sun painted the perfect picture of the unforgettable day that lay ahead of us.

We drove for about ten minutes until we reached a large group of Log-eared African elephants, feeding passively on a wide-branched Marula tree. Their long silver trunks grasped the soft fluffy fruit, fondling and fussing over every tiny twig that hung on it. One opened its jaws and let out an enormous, breathtaking cry. Its gigantic size and untroubled way of life reflected ...

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