A Blog About Me: What's In A Name?

Remember the days of collecting rocks, coins, stamps and seashells? If you said yes, I'll let you in on a little secret: by the age of 13, I had amassed 200+ coins from around the world coupled with a respectable antique bottle collection. I know, closet nerd and proud of it. The good news...my days of accumulating dust collectors have gone the way of the do-do. Rather, to my astonishment, I seem to be acquiring a sizeable collection of monikers in a day and age when people are either collecting iTunes playlists or Facebook friends, all of which take little space (physically speaking). 

Nicknames come and go, but some seem to stick around like the lingering smell of a bad fart. Someone throws a few words together and voilà, an instant reflection of my character. I suppose my biased notion of my "star" qualities are not necessarily the views of those closest to me. So how do my friends & family see me? As I am no mind reader and am prone to exaggeration, I will list a few of my various nicknames and let you be the judge of me.

• Sweet-pickle: I can go from being sweet to sour just about as fast as a cheetah can go from 0 to 100km/h in 3 seconds.
• Anal Angel: although sounding like a porn star, it goes with my need to have ALL my "ducks in a row".
• Naserian: my Maasai name given to me in Kenya, by Maasai elders meaning "Peaceful One"
• Newbie: my Canadian friends living in Kenya bestowed me this title. A seasoned traveller to Kenya, I can still manage a few faux-pas or a.k.a. blonde moments.
• Growly Bear: I can be a little over protective with my peeps to the point of being bossy.
• Rose: not a flattering moniker but one my parents gave me a long time ago when in moments of absent-mindedness, I reminded them of a character on their favourite sitcom "The Golden Girls".
• Tuff N' Tiny: the name of my USB flash drive which eventually transferred over to me. What can I say? I'm petite and like to be thought of as tough. If the shoe fits..........
• Malaika: Kenyan Angel - yes, at times, I can be angelic
• Ducky: generally, everything is "ducky" with this Ducky (except around duck season)
• bB (baby Barracuda): generally solitary, a barracuda is a voracious predator relying on stealth and short bursts of speed to overtake its prey. I'm really not that evil but I do have a mischievous streak and fierce determination. Watch out for my sneaky side!!!

There you have it, your African Snow Angel revealed. Professional Photographer, part-time student, current Lead Gardener & Crew Leader, Africa addict, future Field Guide and all of the above. If by chance, and there is that possibility, you should ever run into this Canadian short stop (made famous by Disney's "It's A Small World After All"), ask me about my rock collection. I think geology may be easier to explain and let's face it, it's much more fascinating than what's in a name. Now to fill in box two of my student Visa application - FIRST NAME(s). hmm?!!! 

Do-Overs

The truth is, that throughout our lives, we will experience many things that may cause us to stumble but in the end, it is our choice to learn and grow from these. God never gives us more than we can handle. Of course, you only realize this after the fact. Trust me, I know all too well and can honestly say I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for my stumbles. I will not apologize for bringing God into my blog as that is a big part of who I am. 

Contemplating life in a remote corner of my parents farm.

I am forever trying to push myself which at times can back fire. For the longest time, I had wanted to become a helicopter pilot. As a photographer and frequent traveller to Africa, I envisioned flying to remote destinations to capture THE perfect National Geographic moment. Perhaps I set the bar too high or had the wrong motives or just needed to prove something, either way, leaving flight school was the turning of the tides for my decision to move to Africa. By the end of February, I had no career, no home of my own and felt utterly and totally alone. To say that my emotional, spiritual and physical being were teetering on a knife's edge is an understatement. If you have ever hit rock bottom, then you will understand what it feels like to have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again at square one. The difficulty in this, is that it's up to you to decide when to carry on. 

Staying young means being silly. Dish ninja in action!

My love for Africa has been on going for as long as I can remember. So many friends & family assumed I would be cured once this craving was satisfied, however, my setting foot on the continent only intensified my desire to live there. Since 2008, I have travelled four times to Kenya, twice to South Africa and once to Tanzania. My name is Angele Rouillard and I am addicted to Africa. All this to say, the more times I travel there, the longer I stay and so, it only makes sense that my end goal would be to live and work there for as long as I can; forever would be good too. With that said, in March 2013, I officially enrolled into the FGASA level 1 program in Makalali Private Nature Reserve, South Africa, beginning January 7, 2014. 

With 189 days until I return to Africa and  210 days for my course start, you can imagine my excitement. It will not be quelled. Africa is my happy place. Yes, I endured a "do-over" but I am a much stronger woman for it. If Africa has taught me anything, it is to enjoy the journey rather than the destination. Happy dreaming or as Peter Pan would say "I can fly, I can fly, I can fly!"

Falling Out of A Plane

I have a bucket list. To my credit, I had it before the movie of same name popularized it. The only difference is mine will never have an end. I am not a negative person by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I have what you would call "a zest for life", a contagious "joie de vivre".  The reason I will never complete my bucket list is because the more I explore and experience our world, the more I want to see and do. For every item I cross off, another two or three "to-dos" are added. I also realize that certain things on my list may be out of my reach such as experiencing weightlessness as I don't ever plan on being part of the space program but that's not to say I can't write it down for kicks. This leads me to why most of us write a list in the first place, fear. We all have fears. Truth be told, I am afraid of taking risks, I am afraid of failure, I have a natural fear of sharks and open water, and lastly, I am afraid of heights, or falling from there, actually, am not sure which is worst. 

Skydiving has been on the top of my "experiences" list (yes, before you ask, my bucket list is organized from experiences to natural wonders to UNESCO heritage sites, etc.) for a very long time, right next to learning to fly a helicopter.  All I can write about the latter is that I flew for 20 seconds and that jumping out of a perfectly good plane, was much easier. That is to say, I could at least control my "falling with style" better than I could a tin flying contraption. 

The notion of jumping into thin air, literally, the air is thinner at 10,000 feet, seemed beyond comprehension. I simply woke-up one morning and decided this would be the perfect month to jump. I tend to work myself up to the point of feeling nauseated, anxious, with a veritable butterfly breeding ground in my stomach but on the chosen day, I was calm. The sunshine was brilliant, the ceiling unlimited and my excitement boundless. As I said my final goodbyes to friends and family and acknowledged any last acquisition requests on their part, I couldn't help but beam at my courage. Me, the once shy girl from the farm, was, to the shock of everyone who knows me, about to skydive. The plane ride was uneventful. We climbed, and climbed, and soared high above the island. The view was fantastic! Once at elevation, I received the tap on my shoulder, the signal that we were to prepare to exit the plane. The excitement masked any apprehension I may have had at this point. I leaned back on my instructor as taught, and then, it happened. You think you are ready for anything but the moment you're thrust into mid-air with nothing to grasp, the earth coming up at you faster than you can anticipate, the expected "roller coaster" feeling non-existent but rather a sudden will to survive, followed by my piercing SCREAM, it was a rush of adrenaline beyond words. I can still replay it over and over in my mind and experience that same exhilarating rush.

The moment the parachute is deployed is comparable to someone hitting the brakes. 30 sec of free falling followed by a sudden stop and then a leisurely descent (until your instructor decides to spiral). I always assumed a certain level of noise up there, you know, wind rushing through your ears and such but in fact, it was quite the opposite. The silence coming down was deafening and pure bliss. The view, incredible. I gazed at my feet dangling so high above the earth. I was mesmerized by this concept and understood the Wright brothers fascination with flight. Who wouldn't want to soar with the eagles?!

So there you have it. I did it. I jumped out of an airplane and lived to tell about it. It is now crossed off the bucket list but that isn't to say, I won't do it again. I'm not sure I conquered my fear of heights but I took the risk and did not fail, two things I'm proud to say. Next on the list...........shark cage diving.....maybe. 

Africa...eventually!

I realize that this is the year 2013 so you will have to forgive me if I delve into my past to explain the present.

The year 2012 was quite a year for me; in fact, it was a year of many firsts. I could never have imagined that at the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2012, the sound of clinking champagne flutes would herald the start of a new beginning. 

To give you a brief synopsis, by December 29, 2011, I was single and unemployed with no sense of purpose. I refused to work for a horrible boss which inevitably led me to quit my job. I now joined the multitude of job seekers on-line, in line and at job fairs. I was desperate to find work and fast; the rent wasn't going to pay itself. Africa may have taught me patience but job seeking toughened me to a world of rejection and made me a more determined woman. On the bright side, three months of unemployment also gave me the opportunity to pursue new avenues...but more on that later.

A previously purchased non-refundable airline ticket to what would inevitably become the family vacation that wasn't, saw me trekking the back roads of Maui solo. Now some of you would have sighed at my seemingly sad predicament while others would have felt sorry for me but I assure you I needed neither. January was a turning point for me and also the moment I realized that if I was to do anything with my life then I would need to be the one to give myself a virtual swift kick in the ass. Amid all my flaws I was a woman with gumption.

A first time experience...what a rush!!!

Post zip line group.

February and March came and went without much fanfare. By April 2nd, 2012, I had secured a job as a landscaper and a few weeks later, was promoted to crew leader. Although labour intensive, my summer was fraught with several perks that included lunch on the beach, farmer's tan, great pipes, a six-pack, endless sunshine and my boss occasionally buying us beer.

Landscaper's Pipes!

To make a long story short, by end September I was heading to Africa for a 3 week holiday leading to a 3 month volunteer project to what would inevitably become a turning of the tides. More to follow............

Thunderstorms, Lorry Rides and Stomach Bugs

OK...I apologize for being off the grid for so long. Internet is quite sporadic in the bush.

Thunderstorms, lorry ride, and stomach bugs....oh!my!

After days of predictions, the heavens have opened up. Our drivers’ incessant complaints about dust on the roads will abate for the time being only to be replaced further on by complaints of being stuck in Kenya’s slick black cotton or mud as we foreigners call it. It is a relentless deluge of rain, wind and thunder. The evenings are no less spectacular with a veritable light show in the cumulus.  I am currently tucked away in my office, the refreshing smell of rain, strong in my nostrils. My Canadian jumper and my pot of Kenyan chai, offer me the only relief from the damp air. Everything is at a standstill. This is the best work break one could ask for after days of stifling heat. After months of anticipation by the locals, one can safely say, the short rains have arrived.

If anything, the rains have made me grateful that I am now safely settled at Cottars 1920’s Camp. Weeks ago, I found myself the only white female passenger on a large delivery truck heading to camp.  So that you are better able to understand my predicament (that is my long journey into the night), imagine being advised of an early departure time of 7am from Cottars Nairobi office, arriving at said time, only to wait the 7.5hrs for the arrival and loading of the lorry. My lesson for that particular day, never skip breakfast. My one reprieve throughout that particular road trip was a quick stop over in Narok, the halfway mark to the Cottars Camp, for “nyoma choma” or bbq’d meat, a local and favourite dish of mine. My truck mates, two burly Kenyans with a great sense of humour, my only other saving grace for the 8.5hr trek.  The Spanish Inquisition could not have prepared the sanest individual from the barrage of questions I endured. The main topic of conservation, much to my chagrin, was my love life. By the end of the road trip, I had secured a would-be husband and would-be boyfriend, not of my own choosing of course.

It’s safe to say that I have had many suitors in camp. Kenyans are lacking neither charm nor determination when it comes to wooing this Canadian short stop. To be aggressively pursued is somewhat unnerving at times but the guys in camp mean well and graciously accept defeat. Pests in camp are a different matter altogether. The rats, fleas, ants, wall spiders that frequent my new home are unwelcome visitors in the bed, shower and room and unfortunately do not comprehend rejection. I am a lover of all things great and small but even this lady has her limits. Case in point, as I prepared for bed one evening, a rat migrated up the shower drain and scampered across the bathroom floor as I stood in awe at its brazenness; my only weapon, a soft bristled tooth brush and a tube of Colgate.  Such happenings are a common occurrence and make for great dinner time conversation when tourists are NOT in camp.

And now for our top story - the stomach bugs. Yuck! Pests come in all shapes and sizes but these bugs are by far, in my opinion, THE worst. One can hope for an iron stomach and proper hygiene practices in the kitchen but in the end, it is a daily game of Russian roulette. No matter how many times I wash my hands and only drink bottled water, I have come down with the stomach bug twice. Both occurrences have lasted well over three days which in truth is a quarter of the time I already have spent in camp. Unfortunately, work schedules do not allow for time off and one must eventually muster the strength and will power to carry on with the daily tasks.  I am glad to say I have an ample supply of both.

 Angele Rouillard

Special Assignment, Cottars 1920's Camp, Masai Mara, Kenya

Volunteer Placement

I apologize for the long absence but TIA (this is Africa) afterall. I am currently in Nairobi enjoying the last vestiges of my holiday with Roxanne. I will be returning to the Mara on Friday morning (GASP!!!!). Yes, it is true and really not surprising for those of you who know me well enough to know that Africa is in my blood. I will be staying in Kenya until December 25th, working back of house for Cottar's 1920's Camp. I am looking forward to working with staff and volunteers again. Luckily, I will have internet access on this portion of the journey which will hopefully mean better correspondence. I hope to share many stories and adventures with you.

A Superkalafragilisticexpealidotious Experience

Wow, wow, wow!!! I am at a loss for words for where to begin. There are so many stories begging to be shared that I fear some will be lost in translation. There was this time when wild dogs chased a leopard up the tree, then this other time when an elephant charged our vehicle, or when hyenas ran by our vehicle as we all stood around waiting for our driver to change a flat tire, and then this other time we followed a lone male lion through a dry riverbed 4x4ing through sand and over boulders, or our tracker leaving our vehicle to track a leopard and guide us to her, and I can't forget when 1,000 cape buffalo converged on a water hole only to be frightened into a stampede by a demure heron, and also another time we walked up to three rhinos only 5m from us.....and then, we were never heard from again - hahaha! With no internet access, how could I share my adventures with the outside world? Never fear for pictures are worth a 1,000 words. 

I wish everyone could experience the thrill of their first wildlife sighting or safari drive into the bush! There is nothing quite like the feeling of having wind, dust and sun seep into the skin. The smell of the bush is as intoxicating for me as a T-Bone steak grilling on the barbecue. I could stay out for hours on end gazing, listening, studying, photographing this familiar world. I feel I may have passed on the "Africa bug" to my fellow traveler but I don't think she'll mind. 

Until next time.....