I had read the warnings. It was the shoulder season, the transition from the dry into the wet season. So you could be unlucky and get some rain. And there had been some rain. A few showers in the afternoons, but mostly at night. Which also meant lush green vegetation for the early morning game drives. 

The itinerary included a bush dinner one of the evenings. A three-course dinner served in the middle of the bush, surrounded by wilderness and with the sunset as a subtle pastel coloured backdrop. However, due to heavy rain showers and a weather forecast warning of thunderstorms on the way, the bush dinner had to be cancelled. 

But disappointment quickly gave way to something else. Despite the cancelled adventure in the bush, I felt secretly hopeful considering the prospect of an African thunderstorm and some atmospheric action viewed from the safety of my porch.

With the sun still setting in the distance, I spent the evening sitting outside my room enjoying the thunderstorm passing by. It was a theatre of colour and sound and electric charges. For an hour or so I was surrounded by heavy rain, waves of rolling thunder, endless trails of zigzag lightning, everything accompanied by the colours of the setting sun. It was quite a show. 

The sun had set, the storm was moving away, and the rolling thunder slowly started to fade. It had left a refreshing coolness in the air, and everything around me was soaking wet - including my shoes. The vegetation smelled raw. It did not take long before the chirping from the crickets was back. And the bird song. And soon after a little nyala family came passing by my porch, grazing peacefully under the dripping acacia trees. As if this monumental performance was just everyday life, which it is.

It was not a part of the itinerary. But when you lose out on an adventure, the African wilderness will provide you with another one for free, maybe just as wonderful and spectacular.