Senses Alert

My senses are overwhelmed!  What better way to start the day then to head out into the bush veld in dawn’s early morning light while a gentle breeze carries the scent of flora and fauna, and a promise of the great safari to come. In a few moments time, our vehicle is surrounded by the over 800 cape buffalo that a few of us in camp had the pleasure of hearing throughout the night. I'm sure they are just as amused to have their morning interrupted by the endless clicking of shutter buttons as we were to have had our sleep interrupted and our senses assaulted by grunting sounds and the acrid smell of cow dung. Giraffe, impala, kudu, cape buffalo, elephants, rhinoceros, zebra, monkeys, bush babies, warthogs, leopard, wild dog ....I fear I may become cross eyed from looking every which way. One can’t resist the giddiness that inevitably follows a sighting. I am in my happy place – perhaps, like Peter Pan, this will help me fly!?

Hot Destinations

Hot, Hot, Hot!!!

The mercury is rising! I did not anticipate this veritable inferno, a whopping 43C. The camp pool is a welcome relief from the sun’s endless beating both for the tourists and the wildlife (the elephants emptied the pool the night prior). Endless pairs of foreign feet splash about in the water, while introductions are made and the drinks poured. My friend Roxanna and I are welcomed into the fold of seasoned and newbie safari goers. 

A Long Haul Flight Into The Night

People watching is a wonderful way to pass the time in any of the world’s airports. It begs to wonder where are people going, who are they meeting, what is their story. I wager there are many sad, wonderful and thrilling tales to be heard. Once seated on the airplane, your fellow passengers become your fellow travellers, confidants, friends, etc. all with a common goal - arriving safely at a final destination. It is amazing how much we are willing to tell, how much of our life story we are willing to share with a perfect stranger or in my experience, to the person luckily or unluckily seated beside me. Having travelled as much as I have and having exchanged dialogues with many fellow passengers, I could either have written a book by now or acquired a degree in psychology, and in some rare cases, could have gone to the loony house. Even with the endless chatter, announcement interruptions, food service, drink service, pee breaks, etc., I still find time for quiet contemplation gazing out at the endless sky to the point of imagining myself floating through the cumulus clouds. Flying still holds endless wonder for me whether we’re soaring through a lightning storm, parallel to a full moon, having the cabin filled with a new day’s morning rays, or being dazzled by a brilliant array of city lights announcing our final destination. 20hrs of flight time, 8hrs of layovers, thousands of kilometres travelled, I have arrived safely in Africa.

Three Cities

Narok - Part 1 "The River Runs Wild"

Narok...a blend of smog, people and utter chaos, and our destination for our large grocery run. A late departure from camp, a bad combination of kerosene/fuel in the pick-up, a 3 hour delay at the mechanic, as well as storm clouds on the horizon; in hindsight, I suppose these events were forshadowing things to come.

As the sun began to set, Douglas, Leonard and I found ourselves packing and repacking the truck for the return journey to camp. Barely managing to fit all the items onto the back of the truck, we eventually resorted to using our laps to carry the more "fragile" products (ie eggs). With everything safely stowed away, we bid Narok farewell and began our journey home.

Leonard

Lightning stretched across the horizon as the heavens opened up with a torrential downpour causing already dangerous roads to become entrenched and slick. What was originally going to be a 3 hour trek became a 5 hour odyssey. I say odyssey because having only 1 CD in the truck meant that by the time we reached Oloolaimutia, well after midnight, we could sing along to all the tracks.

Unable to cross the now raging Sand River, we grabbed our torches and trekked through the darkened streets of Oloolaimutia in search of a safe place to stay the night. The local hotel aptly named Sweethearts proved to be both clean and dry and exactly what this ragged mzungu needed. Nothing could keep me from sleeps embrace!

By morning the roads had improved little. Tired but not beaten we headed to camp with fingers crossed. Six attempts at the first crossing did not deter us from what lay ahead after all the local Maasai did aid us by pushing our vehicle through the not quite knee deep mud. The Sand River however proved another matter. A second camp vehicle with most of the staff tagging along was already waiting for us on the other side of the river ready to lead our vehicle across. At this juncture I have to admit that I was slightly fearful of the churning waters. My instincts were telling me "no" while everyone else was saying "go". In the end, the staff waded through the water, tied a tow line to our truck and towed us to safety. The adrenaline coursing through my veins, I was now ready for another adventure but first things first, a cup of chai and a hot shower.

Nairobi - Part 2 "There and Back Again - A Mzungu's Travel Tale"

Stars dotted the night sky as I made my way to Oloolaimutia to catch the 3AM matatu to Narok and then ownward to Nairobi. This was to be my first attempt at the local mode of transportation. I was eager to hit the open road with these legendary drivers. Dodging pot holes, trash and mud trenches, our driver manoeuvred our vehicle to "designated" stops to pick-up his passengers. Desginated stops is a liberal term as in the pitch of night we would stop at some house or manyatta, honk the horn and wait for those inside to make their way to the matatu. How the driver knew where to stop will remain a mystery to this day. With 12 seats already full and only 2 places remaining, I could scarcely believe my eyes when we made additional stops. Where were those people going to sit? The more people were squeezed into our vehicle, the more impressed I became by my fellow passengers sheer determination. In the end, we managed to fit a whopping 23 people in our proverbial clown car. As it was cool and raining outside, I enjoyed the warmth within.

Angele & Douglas

 The return journey was to be another highlight of Kenyan life. Imagine a 26 passenger bus laden with people, goods and fowl. It took the driver and his men a whopping 4 hours to secure everything and everyone onto, atop and into the bus. This was going to be a whole new experience unlike the matatu. As I quietly sat in my designated seat, I watched the men haul 50kg sacks of sugar into the aisles followed by 20ltr vats of cooking oil. Under every seat they managed to stow away vegetables, pangas, boxes, bags, etc... As for the top of the bus, .furniture, drums of fuel next to bags of fresh charcoal were securely strapped for the return journey to the Mara. The most comical part to me was the loading of chickens. With legs tied together, they hung in rows on either side of the bus. Throughout the journey, beaks would peck at the glass and beady eyes would look at you accusingly as you sat in relative comfort as babies sat on strangers laps, passengers squeezed together onto seats and several extra people crammed the aisles. If only I had brought my camera.

Sekenani - Part 3 "The Last Crusade"

Everyone in camp used to tell me that if you went out to buy a sack of potatoes it could take you all day and there were no guarantees of your being successful. I was about to understand this concept.

Ernest

Hot and dusty best described the roads, the air and ourselves. It was essential to travel to Sekenani as we were running low on cooking gas and with a shortage in Kenya, it only seemed right to head to a balloon company and await their delivery truck.

Being organized as I am, I stayed in constant contact with the delivery driver. With an estimated arrival time of noon, James, Ernest and I headed to Sekenani. Upon our arrival however, we were informed that the driver was nowhere near where previously mentioned. We therefore decided to walk through the town, do a little shopping and find a place to quench our thirst and satisfy our hunger. Most establishments were either too dirty or too hot but in the end we settled on the "Star Hotel" as it most importantly offered cold sodas. With ice cold bottles pressed against our foreheads, we dined on local goat and rice.

Now we had to kill time...first we parked the truck under the only tree we could find and listened to James' tunes. Secondly, as their was no breeze in town, we decided to create our own by driving down the washboard road. Finally, we walked around town approximately 5-6 times, as the town only had 3 streets, stopping at the same establishments as when we first arrived as we may have missed seeing something new.

Our delivery driver finally pulled into Sekenani well after 6pm...a good 6 hours off schedule. Regulations state that the canisters cannot be filled until the air within has cooled. As the park gates were closing at 6:30pm, we decided it best to leave the empty canisters and return in the morning. Armed with the best "sweet talker" in camp, we managed to make our way through both park gates and arrive in camp by 8pm. For once, I actually looked forward to a cold shower.

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Muthaiga Staff

This may well be my last blog until after the New Year. Wishing everyone a safe and blessed Christmas!

Angele/Naserian/Malaika

New Friends

With everything I have experienced so far, I must say that the highlight of my time here has been meeting the people. Their hospitality is as warm as the African sun. I periodically pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming and if I'm not pinching myself the children are to make sure this "mzungu" is real and not a ghost. I have been busily photographing the children including those that have been sponsored to further their education by foreigners. This task has generally been followed by tiny hands clamouring to view the LCD screen on my camera. Every click of the shutter has brought on a chorus of giggles from my new friends. Imagine being mobbed by so many smiling faces grasping at your arms and hands that you can't even take a step forward. This is what I've experienced at the schools and local bomas. I beam at the memory! The other day I was a guest of honour at the Opilagilagi school closing as another school term was coming to an end. After handing out colourful pencils I had managed to stow away in my camera bag, I was entertained by angelic voices. Singing in their native tongue only heightened the experience. The headmaster's closing speech was followed by a prayer and then the dismissal for the holiday break. The children ran so fast it was as though they were being carried away by the wind.  Afterwards, we headed over to one of the local Maasai villages to hand out shoes that were so generously donated by past clients of the camp. There will always be more bare feet than shoes but there was no animosity among the villagers only joy for those who were lucky enough to have the right shoe size. In the end, the village elders were so grateful they sent us back to camp with a beautiful rooster which became part of our dinner the next evening. It was delicious!

Kenyan VS Mzungu Soccer Match

The game was tight. The crowd, anticipating a "mzungu" win, roared with each goal scored upon the Kenyan team. Actually, to be really honest there were only 3 mzungus - Greg, Libby and myself, of which two of us made up the team along with some "honorary mzungus" (a.k.a. our Kenyan staff and some of the best players in camp), while Libby cheered us on from the sidelines. Strategically this was in our favour as she did enthusiastically guide Greg's every move as goalie. Thank goodness I was goalie # 1.5! It can be quite intimidating, to say the least, to have staff members who I'm sure practice "football", soccer for North Americans, in their sleep come at you with the full force of a tidal wave intent on only one thing...getting that ball through the goal line. I must say that when I did eventually catch that incoming ball everyone including myself stood wide eyed at what had just been accomplished. I had prevented a tie and in the end I had won the game. Although I'm sure there are those on my team who would dispute this fact. Then again, this is my blog. Only a few things to note if you should ever organize an impromptu football game out on the plains. First off, playing barefoot only makes it easier for the thorns to wreak havoc with the feet. Secondly, the ball is just as susceptible to punctures when playing near thorny acacia trees and thirdly, the inevitable tall tales are bound to surface around the camp fire. Now this isn't to say its all fun and games in camp. The respite from work however is always appreciated and when I'm not out on the football field, I can usually be found working away in the camp office. Work is never far away and if you can't find it, it will surely find you... as will most other things around here!

The Green Grocery Cart

All good things have a beginning and end. Our 3 hour trek to Narok began in the early hours of the morning, 5AM to be exact. The stars had yet to give way to the sun. Nevertheless, bright eyed and bushy tailed, we headed out in our trusty green pick-up truck for a much needed grocery run. As the sun crept over the mountains, illuminating both the landscape and the grazing wildlife, I hunkered down in the front seat, warmed by James our driver on the right and Douglas, my office mate on the left. Whoever said being stuck in the middle wasn't a good thing needs to reconsider its benefits.

The washboard effect on the roads combined with the pot holes that lead to oblivion gave one a true sense of the word "Kenyan massage". May I be bold enough to suggest a spa in its stead. After 3.5 hours of being jostled around in the truck like a ping pong ball, we pulled into the Kenol gas station for our first order of business, a round of chai. By mid-morning we had purchased only 1/4 of the required items as the sun began to heat up the city streets. With the realization that we would not be returning to camp by late afternoon, we shopped on. As the day progressed, our pick-up finally began to show signs of its heavy cargo. Only two more stops and we could breathe a sigh of relief. At the Nakumatt, Douglas and I each grabbed a grocery cart and proceeded down the narrow aisles of the store with our lists in hand. As each cart filled, another empty one took its place. In the end, four carts, brimming with goods, were neatly lined at the cash register and with as much time as it took to load them, they were processed and marched out to the truck. 

Finally, our last stop, the Narok outdoor market. Douglas had the foresight to call ahead with our order and when we pulled in, Patricia was waiting for us with the last items on our list, the veggies. This proved to be our stalemate. With the truck leaning precariously to one side, we realized a few things would have to be reshuffled at the back. At first,only a few items were removed, however, the puzzle proved to be a little more complex, for the men that is, then previously thought and in the end the entire truck was unloaded, reloaded with some female guidance and secured. Patricia returned a few moments later to reward each of us with 2 bananas and for this, we were extremely grateful.

Rumps bruised and my hair tousled into a virtual birds nest, our 14 hour journey ended as we rolled into camp, our green grocery cart heavy laden with goods. Although weary eyed, I was elated to have arrived safely with everything in tack including all my senses. Plus, who wouldn't be overjoyed to be greeted by Libby with a cold Tusker in hand.