I once had a terrifying encounter during a safari when I was attacked by a wild animal. It was an unpleasant experience, so if you’re sensitive to such stories, you may want to skip this.

Before I delve into the incident, let me emphasize that I have been on numerous game drives across Africa and have always felt safe in open safari vehicles. Despite being in close proximity to Africa’s apex predators, like lions, there has never been a reported case of them jumping on a vehicle to attack humans. Wild lions actually fear humans and perceive them as a threat rather than a source of food. If a lion charges at you while on foot, standing still often deters them. In the case of a safari vehicle, it is believed that lions do not even recognize individual humans and see the entire vehicle as one entity. Most game reserves have acclimated animals to the presence of safari vehicles, and they don’t consider them a threat.

However, occasionally, unforeseen incidents occur. For example, an angry elephant might charge at a safari vehicle. Throughout my years as a safari operator, I have encountered several mock charges by elephants, but never has one actually made contact with our vehicle. It does happen, but the likelihood of experiencing such an incident is extremely low, much lower than the chances of being involved in a car accident on your daily commute.

Now, let me share the story of when I was personally attacked and bitten by a wild animal while on safari.

In certain areas of Tanzania and other safari destinations, you should anticipate the annoyance of tsetse flies. These pesky insects are about the size of horse flies and have a knack for landing on you without notice. They can even bite through clothing, delivering a nasty zap. Despite your best efforts to swat them away, they simply fly off as if nothing happened. They are remarkably resilient creatures, capable of withstanding a heavy-handed slap.

For most people, a tsetse fly bite is no worse than a mosquito bite. However, I happen to have some sort of allergic reaction to their bites. Whenever I’m bitten, I develop large, itchy welts that persist for days. As a precaution, I cover up by wearing closed shoes, long trousers, and long sleeves. Light-colored clothing is preferable, as these flies have a fondness for dark colors such as blue and black. Since a mere hand slap has no effect, I resort to using a big, thick hardcover book to swat them away.

During a game drive, while engrossed in observing wildlife, I always keep an eye out for both the fascinating creatures and the troublesome tsetse flies. On this particular occasion, as I was immersed in the safari experience, a tsetse fly landed on the back of my right hand—the same hand holding the book! These flies are smarter than one might think. In an attempt to dislodge it, I vigorously shook my hand out into the wind, nearly dropping my book in the process. However, the tsetse fly remained stubbornly attached. In the blink of an eye, I felt the piercing sting of its bite. Instinctively, I swiftly transferred the book to my left hand, rested my right hand on the armrest, and delivered a forceful smack with the book.

BAM! I got it!

The impact felt as though I had shattered every bone in my hand. Blood was visible on the back of my hand, and I realized I had split my knuckles open. The tsetse fly, however, lay flat and motionless. It wasn’t squashed because these flies are resilient like leather—they’re not soft and squishy.

And then, to my astonishment and frustration, the tsetse fly started to move. It shook itself off, gave me a mocking look, and flew away unharmed. That’s when tears welled up in my eyes. Not due to the pain in my injured hand, but because that infuriating tsetse fly had managed to escape unscathed.