The scenery shifted drastically as they touched down in Maasai Mara.
They landed in Kenya and boarded an open-air 4x4 safari jeep driven by a local guide named Kamau.
Sylaris was dressed for the aesthetic, having curated her outfit days in advance. She wore a khaki safari utility jacket tightly cinched at her waist with a slim dark brown leather belt, topped with a textured brown straw cowboy hat that she had refused to take off since they had stepped out of the terminal in Nairobi. The hat sat slightly crooked on her head, tilted over one eyebrow like an off-beat adventurer.
Zaliyah, on the other hand, looked as though he had taken a wrong turn on his way to an exclusive country club. He was wearing a white linen button-down with the sleeves rolled precisely to his mid-forearms, tailored khaki chino shorts, a brown silk ascot tucked into his open collar, and brown leather Oxford dress shoes.
"Are you going on a safari, or are you attending a polo match in the Hamptons?" Sylaris taunted, swinging her legs off the edge of the jeep seat as the breeze caught her jacket.
"I have standards. I don't abandon taste simply because there are lions nearby," Zaliyah replied, leaning back against the vinyl seat and resting his arm along the door frame.
As the jeep bumped along the rutted dirt track through the vast, golden savannah, the tall grasses swishing against the metal frame, Sylaris bombarded poor Kamau with an endless stream of questions.
"Are those zebras? Why are their stripes like that?"
"To confuse flies," Kamau replied, his hands firm on the steering wheel as he navigated a deep trench.
"Do lions climb trees?" she asked, leaning over the back of the front seat.
"Sometimes."
"What if a lion was hungry and I was the only thing around?"
"Sylaris!" Zaliyah yelled, his head snapping toward her.
"What?! I'm asking for safety."
Kamau glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling. "No, you will not get eaten," said Kamau. "You'll ask the lion too many questions. Lion would give up."
Zaliyah chuckled, closing his eyes for a brief second and thanking God that Sylaris had finally ended her barrage of questions.
Then she took a quick breath and continued, and he exhaled deeply, letting his chin sink into his chest.
"How fast is a cheetah? Can a cheetah beat Dad? Do hippos really kill more people than lions? Why is that one lying down? Is he dead? Why is that one looking at us? Kamau, what does that bird eat? Do zebras fight lions? Can a zebra kick a car? Look, a giraffe! Kamau, why are giraffes' necks so long? Do giraffes sleep standing up? How do they not trip over their own necks?"
Zaliyah rested his head against his hand, staring out at the golden, dust-filtered landscape with exhausted eyes. "Sylaris, breathe. Let the man drive. If you ask one more question about giraffe anatomy, I will leave you in that acacia tree."
"I'm just curious! It's educational!"
"It's psychological warfare," Zaliyah muttered,
Suddenly, Kamau slowed the jeep down, idling the engine near a shallow, muddy watering hole bordered by low brush. A small herd of elephants was gathered at the water's edge, drinking peacefully and spraying cool mud over their grey backs. Among them was a fuzzy baby elephant, stumbling clumsily over its own oversized trunk as it tried to imitate the adults.
It wandered away from the group, stopping barely ten feet from the idling vehicle. It looked at them, tilted its small head, and flapped one oversized ear.
Sylaris's eyes went wide as saucers, her breath catching in her throat. Baby elephants were her weakness. Every Sunday for as long as she could remember, she had made Zaliyah take her to the city zoo, where she would stand at the elephant enclosure for hours, saying nothing, just watching the elephants. She loved baby elephants more than any living thing on the planet. More than ice cream. More than KATSEYE—though she would deny it to her death.
"Oh my gosh," Sylaris whispered, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, her voice trembling with shock. "IT'S SO CHUBBY, I COULD RIDE IT"
No, you cannot, Zaliyah thought,
Before anyone could react or even process the motion, Sylaris unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped up onto the narrow metal edge of the open-air jeep. She balanced herself precariously on the railing, her arms outspread like she was about to leap headfirst out of the vehicle and tackle the three-hundred-pound baby elephant in a tight hug.
"SYLARIS! NO!" Zaliyah screamed.
He lunged forward, throwing his body across the bench seat and grabbing her around her waist with both arms, hauling her backward into the jeep just as her foot slipped off the rim.
The other tourists in a nearby safari vehicle gasped in collective horror, whispering to one another across the open gap.
"Was she about to jump?"
"Oh, heavens, children nowadays aren't scared of anything."
Two vehicles over, a veteran Kenyan driver leaned his elbow out of his window, watching the chaos unfold with his dark sunglasses pushed high up on his forehead. He shook his head slowly, chuckling, and said to the guide sitting beside him in Swahili, "Hawa Wazungu, nakwambia! Hawaogopi kitu chochote. Alitaka kupambana na tembo mwitu!" (These pale foreigners, I swear! They are never scared of anything. She wanted to wrestle a wild elephant!)
Kamau twisted around in his seat to look at Zaliyah, who was currently breathlessly holding a wildly laughing, wriggling Sylaris in a tight headlock.
"Ah, mama—I mean, sir," Kamau corrected himself hastily, "You must control your child. Please note, the safari company policy clearly states: we do not offer refunds if a guest is eaten or trampled! Is your daughter suicidal? Is she looking for an opportunity to end it all?"
"No, no she's not" Zaliyah wheezed, as he kept a firm grip on his daughter's jacket.
"Because we do not refund lives,"
"I swear, she is not suicidal, she is just devoid of common sense. I am so sorry, I am so sorry," Zaliyah said, sitting up abruptly and trying to restore some semblance of dignity while adjusting his brown silk ascot, which was now wildly crooked and trailing over his shoulder.
Kamau turned his full attention to Sylaris, pointing a hand toward the dense brush past the watering hole. "The baby elephant has a mother. The mother is behind that bush. She weighs six tons."
Sylaris peeked out from under Zaliyah's arm and looked at the bush.
Right on cue, the thick green branches rustled. A massive, grey trunk the size of a full-grown tree trunk rose high above the canopy, letting out a deep rumble that vibrated right through the metal frame of their jeep.
Sylaris didn't flinch. She just cackled, her chubby cheeks turning bright pink as she pushed her hat back into position. "Dad, did you see it? It was so cute. Did you see its little ears?"
"I saw my life flash before my eyes," Zaliyah said, brushing dirt off his shorts and attempting to fix his disheveled hair. "Sit down, fasten that strap, and do not move a single muscle until we are safely back in Nairobi."
Sylaris lifted the brim of her hat. Her eyes were shining with delight. "Can we come back tomorrow?"
"No," said Zaliyah and Kamau in unison.
The baby elephant, having lost interest in the strange, noisy bipeds in the metal box, turned around, gave its tiny tail a whip, and trotted happily back into the tall grass toward its mother. Sylaris watched it go, resting her chin on her crossed arms over the side rail, wearing the tragic look of someone saying goodbye to the love of her life.
"This is the best day of my life," she said smiling.