Sleeping with Lions
WHEN I WOKE UP, IT WAS BLACK INSIDE THE TENT. It felt like I’d been asleep for hours. At first, I didn’t know whether I had heard a noise or caught the end of a dream. Before long, the sharp crack of breaking wood punctured the silence, as if something was walking over the fallen branches outside. I had every reason to believe that something was a lion.
My husband West and I had flown into Botswana’s Okavango Delta, where the Okavango River empties into the flat sands of the Kalahari Desert. When our plane touched
