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A thought is only as important as it is in the moment — unless you give it a home. Daniel Kahneman,
There’s a strange thing that happens out here. Days begin to merge. Morning drives fold into evenings, sightings blur together. That leopard in the marula… was that this morning or yesterday? The bush moves fast, yet somehow feels timeless.
That’s why I’ve recently started journaling.
Not long ago, I realised how many moments had slipped through the cracks. I could remember my first Londolozi leopard, and my first pride of lions roaring together, but not which pride it was. And who was my second leopard? I wish I’d begun from my very first drive as a guide. The stories that have come and gone – small, fleeting, and golden- are what make this life what it is.
There’s always a tension between being present and preserving, between seeing and remembering. Journaling, I’ve found, sits quietly in that space. It doesn’t pull you out of the moment; it helps you return to it later.
The Safari Blur
Anyone who’s spent time on safari knows how easily it all blends together. One morning, you’re watching elephants mudwallow, the next you’re tracking wild dogs, and before you know it, you’ve forgotten which sighting came first. Each day feels full, yet the details start to drift.
Journaling brings it all back into focus.
It’s like taking a photo with both cameras on your phone: one facing forward and the other back at you. One with your eye, one with your mind. The first might capture the way the light fell across a leopard’s coat; the second catches what you felt in that moment.
The Quiet Notes
Your journal doesn’t need to be poetic or perfect. It might be a few lines before dinner:
- A lilac-breasted roller caught a small scorpion
- A herd of impala spooked by the wind, not a predator.
- The sound of elephant footfalls at night.
Lists of birds, animals, or trees slowly become a record of your own noticing. The more you write, the more you see. Don’t worry about the right words; the act of noticing is enough. Record your questions, not just your sightings
Why It Matters
Even if you don’t keep a daily journal at home, the safari is the perfect place to start one. The experience is rich, layered, and often overwhelming, and a few lines each day will help anchor it.
You might find, as I have, that writing deepens the experience rather than distracts from it. It slows you down. It teaches you to look again.
Reading back weeks or years later, you’ll find a quiet kind of wisdom. You’ll see the things that once caught your attention, what you valued, what you missed. You’ll see your journey, both the one across the open grassland and the one within yourself. In the end, journaling is just another form of tracking, only this time, the tracks lead back to you.
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Keagan Chasenski
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