Matthew Savides gets immersed in the rhythms of the Tanzanian wilderness. The matriarch pauses, cocks her head and stares straight at us. She's stopped eating and is now watching us closely. She looks fidgety, tilting her head from side to side. Her body is dead still. She's listening, unsure of what to make of the six strange, two-legged creatures in the distance. None of us talk.We're standing just about 120m away in open grassland. There is no protection between us and her herd. Behind us there are sporadic acacia trees, some bushes, massive termite mounds and endless veld. If I had ever wanted to know how big the African savannah truly is, I found out that day.Sensing the matriarch's displeasure, our guide Kheto Ncube from Asilia Africa motions for us to move behind a bush. We are to walk backwards, slowly. It's not so much for our safety but to put her and her herd at ease.Ncube is calm - he is, after all, trained to do this (and has a rifle should things go really badly) - but my heart is racing. As we move, the herd makes a guttural rumbling sound. You can feel it as much as you can hear it.They're communicating, Ncube explains, to let others nearby know that there's something unusual about. But it's not a sound of stress. As Ncube says, she's telling them that everything is fine. She picks up a tuft of grass with her trunk and starts eating again; she's told the rest of the elephants that she's assessed us and we aren't a threat.mini_story_image_vleft1Savannah life continues as if we weren't even there."Wow," someone in the group says. "This is incredible."Incredible. It seems such an over-used word. But in this moment, with the late sun casting long shadows across Tarangire National Park in northeastern Tanzania, it's never been more apt. We've just walked 3km through the 2850m² park, home to more than 4500 elephants. The trails we use have been carved into the bush by animals searching for food and water.Ncube describes this as "something spiritual". He's right. On these trails, you aren't observing - you're immersed."When you're in a game vehicle, it's like you're watching a movie. But when you're walking, it's like you're reading a book. You're involved all the time," Ncube says.At Oliver's Camp, in the heart of Tarangire, it's all about being immersed. Every room is tented with clear side flaps that provide views of the valley. The outdoor shower is open to the elements.At night, you hear the unfiltered sounds of the bush - including the jackal that prowled around my room, and the pride of lions that growled just metres from one of the tents nearby. You know you're close to nature when you aren't allowed to walk to and from your tent after 6pm without a guide by your side.It's also about as close to the idea of old-school luxury safaris that you're going to find - including the gin and tonic waiting for you as you get into camp after a walk or drive. It's a similar feeling at the other Asilia Africa camps we stay at during a week in the east African country. Sayari is the flagship camp, visited in the past by Leonardo di Caprio, among other celebs.While the rooms are also tented, these have glass windows and sliding doors. Couches, perfect for afternoon naps, are perched on the wooden decks alongside a table and chairs, ideal for that cup of coffee as the sun rises over the Serengeti.The swimming pool overlooks the plains that lead to the mighty Mara River, the scene of the annual migration river-crossings that the Discovery Channel made so famous. Ayoob, our driver and guide for the duration of our trip, tells us that zebra lead the wildebeest to the water's edge, prodding them to go first. This cunning plan shows the safest routes, while also making sure that many of the waiting crocodiles are well fed before the zebra make their way across.Perhaps it's this single-mindedness of the wildebeest that leaves hundreds of thousands of them dead during the migration. For me, the coolest part of Sayari was that it gave me the chance to tick an item off my bucket list. I've always wanted to visit Kenya. At Sayari, that was possible.Just a short game drive away is the border. As two male lions sat under a tree, eating what was left of a warthog they had just caught, and with the sun piercing through the clouds, I stood with my left foot in Kenya and my right in Tanzania. I literally straddled two countries but only for a short time because, well, those lions were a little too close.And as I had learnt with the matriarch in Tarangire a few days earlier, you really are in the thick of things in this part of the world.sub_head_start When the lion kings roar sub_head_endThree young male lions roar on the outskirts of the camp. It's an unmistakable sound, even in the pitch-black darkness of the Serengeti and even if you've never heard it before. Soon after, at the other end of the Namiri Plains camp, another young male roars back.For a good five minutes, they call out to each other, just making sure they know where they are. It's not the stereotypical roar of the Disney movies, but a low-pitched grumble that seems to travel kilometres - even though you know they're just a few metres away.mini_story_image_vleft2Namiri, which fittingly translates to "The Place of the Cats" in Swahili, is truly something special. It's the most rustic (if you can call a place rustic when it provides faster wifi than I get at home) of the Asilia Africa camps, but it is comfortably the closest you will get to feeling like you're in the heart of the savannah.Camp manager Epimark Mwakalinga tells me that this same small pride was in the camp just a few days earlier. As guests slept, the cats playfully pulled down one of the hammocks that was hung from the massive thorn tree we ate dinner under.They also stole a few cushions off one of the chairs and, perhaps because of their childish youthfulness, mistook the camp's beaded warthog for an easy dinner. The beads were all found scattered in the grass and riverbed nearby.And these aren't the only lions in the area, not by a long shot. More than a dozen lay on top of a granite koppie, sunning themselves. They barely cared that we were there. Nestled between some rocks at another koppie just a few metres away, a mother licked her cub clean as the youngster playfully pushed her away with his paw.A chorus of "Aaaaw, that's so cute, I want one," could be heard from the vehicle.A short while later we encountered Bob Marley, a beast of a lion, whose matted black mane looks remarkably like dreadlocks. His cubs tried to play with him as he approached but he bared his teeth, sending the pair scuttling back to their mother. Even in the beauty of the Serengeti, there is a hierarchy.Bob knows he is king, and in Namiri, those four young men who called out in the night are still finding out where they fit in.sub_head_start IF YOU GO sub_head_endThe per-person-per-night charges at all three camps include accommodation, all meals, all local drinks (wine, beer, water, cooldrinks), Tarangire National Park camping fees, laundry service, scheduled open-vehicle game drives and transfers to and from the nearest airstrip. The rack rates for South African residents are as follows:Sayari Camp: R2 730 per person per night.Namiri Plains: R2 137 per person per night.Oliver's Camp: R2 137 per person per night.For more information and to book, visit asiliaresidentsafaris.com.- Savides was a guest of Asilia Africa. All flights were covered by Fastjet...