My stomach bottomed out. There were wild animals everywhere, but no gates, no guards, no fences protecting our tents. I’d never even camped in the U.S. This was some introduction.

“I guess you didn’t read the fine print in the catalog,” he said with a smile.

I wanted to call my mother, but so as not to panic her, I phoned my sister instead: “Audrey, I’m sleeping in a tent. And there are five lions outside, and I’m scared.”

“What? Masada, I can’t hear you. I’m in Costco right now. Can I call you back?”

I stared at my phone. I was about to be eaten by lions and she was shopping.

The next day, we were scheduled to follow an unarmed tracker on a nature hike past where we’d seen the lions the day before. My tent seemed like a safe haven by comparison, so I told the guide I’d sit this one out.

“You can’t be alone at the camp,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

Now thoroughly terrified, I reluctantly joined the hike. It was beautiful as well as scary. The tracker showed us footprints from elephants, zebras and monkeys. A young giraffe appeared and watched us as we admired her—a quiet reminder that we were guests in her world.

I finally relaxed when we took a safari ride in a truck later that day—until an elephant charged our vehicle, which chose that moment to stall. The truck started seconds later, but the guide insisted we stand our ground, revving our engine as we slowly accelerated towards the massive beast. I was sure we’d be trampled to death, but the elephant broke off its charge at the last moment. Fear-induced adrenaline heightened my senses the whole trip and let me catch every magical detail. Sometimes it’s best not to read the fine print.

Ms. Siegel is a freelance journalist who covers international affairs, business and travel.