Voices of the Night from the Serengeti
When the last light fades from the Serengeti sky and the silhouettes of acacia trees stand guard against a sky bursting with stars, another kind of life begins. The day may belong to the hunters and grazers, but the night? The night belongs to the storytellers.
Here, under the twisted limbs of an old baobab tree, guests gather around a campfire crackling with warmth and the scent of burning wood. It’s more than just a way to end the day. It’s a return to something primal. Something timeless.
Last night, just as the final ember glowed red, a lion’s roar rolled through the lodge deep, deliberate, and close. You don’t just hear it; you feel it in your bones. A hyena answered in the distance, followed by the rising chorus of crickets. The bush comes alive with voices when the sun goes down.
