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.  

Doom - sday

A follow up to my last blog...

As I stated earlier, sometimes it is better to just walk away. Yesterday afternoon, I returned to the office to find Douglas surrounded by 15 dying bees. Interestingly enough, Douglas is one of few people in camp who refuses to use the insecticide yet the familiar smell of Doom was most apparent. He sheepishly admitted to succumbing to its use after all, the bees were trying to make his office their new hive. Several minutes later, one could distinctively hear the sound of swarm of bees fast approaching. As I looked up into the sky, they were headed our way. In my mind, it was a retaliation against Douglas for the "murder" of  their extended family. 

Benjamin, our office manager, and I headed for cover while Douglas hurriedly zipped the tent fly shut. Hundreds of bees surrounded the office tent and all any of us on the outside could do was laugh at Douglas' predicament. "If the bees are still there by dinner, can I have your dessert?" was all I could manage to say between chuckles. The bees did finally settle down on a branch next to the office tent. As of this morning, they are still waiting presumably for another chance to either infiltrate the office or ambush Douglas.  

Strange Bedfellows

I have forged many friendships since my arrival in camp however none have been more intimate than with Africa's smallest creatures. Although I do have a can of "Doom" (local insect spray) at my disposal and within easy reach, I can honestly say I have yet to use it though the urge to do so has not always escaped me. With fierce determination, I have driven several creatures out of my tent only to find that others have taken up residence. It all comes down to mutual respect. Case in point...a long legged spider had taken up residence between my sink and the soap dish. It would occasionally wander onto my bar of soap and as long as I did not require use of the soap I was more than happy to let it reside there as it also kept an eye out for other undesirables. Then of course there was the large bow wheevil (I think?) that strategically positioned itself in the middle of the bathroom floor between the entrance and the flush. Naturally, I tiptoed around it. No need to look under the bed as that is where you would find the crickets chirping you to sleep.  Now this isn't to say there haven't been some exceptions to the use of an insecticide. Although not having handled the Doom myself, I will say there have been moments I have readily encouraged and cheered others on to do so - such as yesterday. The camp office had become a magnet for stinging insects. With stealth like manoeuvrability, giant wasps (anything bigger than my thumb is giant), were using our heads for target practice. We would chase them out of the office, zipper the tent fly only to discover we had sealed ourselves in with at least one enemy operative. The final answer; unleash the Doom!  At times this strategy worked but generally, it was just plain safer to wait them out. Unless they were siyafu (biting ants), in which case I would recommend a complete detour of the area. Then of course there is the inevitable EEEEEKKKK moments. You scurry one way and they, another...some of the time. This evening, while I lay awake in bed, a moth fell on my face. No need to panic you might say as it is only a harmless winged creature but in the dark, EVERYTHING is amplified. It felt and sounded so much bigger in the pitch blackness. I swatted at the air until I was sure that not even a dust spec could find its way onto my pillow which is also why I am now journalling with a flashlight at an unreasonable hour. With all the good, the bad and the ugly, I have discovered that these creatures are as fascinating as they look and sound. Now about the snakes...

New Experiences

Where to begin.... 

There is so much that has happened, that I have begun to loose track of my days here. As most of you are aware, I have been given a new name. I cannot deny that when the Maasai call out "Naserian", I beam with pride as I know it is my name and in my heart I am humbled by its meaning, "peaceful one". What more could I ever hope for in this experience than what I have already been given. 

Every day brings with it a new adventure. No nights, no mornings, and certainly, no days are the same. As I write, a particular incident comes to mind. I was in a search of a bucket when I stumbled into the staff kitchen, not to be mistaken with the client kitchen which I frequent often. As it was nearing 5 o'clock, several Maasai had begun to queue at the counter with cups in hands. My curiosity must have been written all over my face for Douglas, my office mate, gave me his cup and suggested I try the "ugi" or maize porridge. A little apprehensive at first, as I was not sure what to expect, I decided to give it a try. What I tasted was not only hot, thick and sweet but oh! soooo good that I drank every last drop. The Maasai thought my routine of cooling down my ugi by blowing on it quite comical. With hand gestures and "ummm" sounds, they knew I was enjoying my experience. Thus began my first lessons in Ma.  

This same day was also a lesson in speed and endurance. As my taste buds were being treated to a savoury experience, Greg and Libby were being dazzled by a stunning double rainbow over the African landscape. Naturally, Greg called my mobile to request a photo. While I was racing to my tent to retrieve my camera gear, I temporarily stopped to gaze upwards and that's when the siyafu (nasty little ants) started running up my legs. These ants are merciless. Their crawling causes your legs to tingle which creates a chain reaction of your itching and their biting. What had begun as a race to fetch my camera ended in a mad dash to my tent to strip off my pants. Of course the story didn't end there. The staff eventually gathered on the front lawn of the main tent for their photo op under the aforementioned rainbow. In the meantime, I had returned with new pants, set up my tripod and camera and had begun to click away. And that's when "they" struck. If you guessed ants, you are right! During the photo shoot, another colony of siyafu had run up the legs of the staff. So much swatting and beating of pants by staff may have caused a slight sympathetic chuckle behind the lens. 

Endless Possibilites

Day 8

My mornings typically begin with the sound of the askari (night watchmen) collecting the evening lanterns.  This is my unofficial 5:30 am wake-up call.  My watch is set to go off in another hour but there is no sense in waiting for it.  As they say, “the early bird gets the worm”.  My cold shower becomes a distant memory as I step out in the early morning light and let the sun’s rays envelope me in their warmth. I make my way to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee before the kitchen staff arrives for their work day.   

The days go by at a perfect pace, neither rushed nor dull. I find myself enjoying the quiet and solitude. Each day provides me with a new challenge and with that, the little hamster in my head begins to turn its wheel. You can contemplate quite a lot out here in the middle of a perfect nowhere. With warm cup of coffee in hand, I often sit out on the veranda and let my mind wander.  When I first arrived, someone said that I would eventually suffer from “camp fever” but I find that to be quite the opposite.

After a hearty breakfast, made to order, I begin another work day.  My office in camp affords a view of the comings and goings of the staff, and as I type away on the computer, a lovely breeze permeates the space. I am not inundated with the sounds of telephones, intercoms, fax machines and copiers. In fact, the only sounds I hear throughout my day are of people and wildlife (and the occasional cell phone). 

The weather in Olderikesi Conservancy is as varied as the day’s activities. On most mornings we are blessed with the sun and a warm breeze.  By mid-afternoon, we are generally greeted with a torrential downpour and on a rare occasion, as was the case yesterday, hail.  Unfortunately, those little white pebbles on the ground only helped to bring to mind the snow that will eventually welcome me on my return journey to Canada.  I shudder at the thought.  

The remainder of my work day is only interrupted by wonderfully varied meals and of course, the traditional afternoon tea.  There isn't an aspect in my day I don’t look forward to…except for one.  Greg or Libby begin all of our meals with a trivia question. I for one do not claim to be a genius, and although I have only had one correct guess since my arrival, I prefer to be the “stumper” than the stumped.  Perhaps today will be my lucky day, after all I am in Africa and as far as I can tell, anything is possible. 

The African Queen

Day 3

If given the choice, I would refer to myself as the African Queen. However, seeing as Greg is my boss, I have been appropriately dubbed the "newbie". Perhaps my moments of absent mindedness upon on first meeting have given him justification but let's not delve into these. 

I may be the new kid in camp, but in the last few days, I have come to realize that even throughout my unpredictable work day, there are moments, even at Muthaiga Camp, that can draw my attention away to leave a permanent impression on my mind such as...

1. the glow of the kerosene lanterns as they silhouette the "Askari" against a darkening sky while they go about delivering the lanterns throughout camp;

2. the crunching of zebra hooves on the quartz paths as they meander through camp in the early morning hours;

3. the sweet sound of Maasai adornements as metal chimes against metal;

4. the sound of the rolling thunder across the savannah heralding an impending storm followed by a spectacular light show;

5. the way the early morning sun highlights the yellow acacia trees;

6. the way a cold shower rejuvenates me in the morning and would in reality take anyone's breath away;

7. the nightly hot water bottle tucked into the sheets that is still warm enough in the morning to work wonders after #6

I appreciate the complexities of camp affairs but at the same time, it is the simplicity of camp life that has reaffirmed my decision to have travelled to Africa once again. Tomorrow's market day will reveal whether or net I have romanticized my placement.

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Day 4

I have been anticipating this day since my arrival. With crates, bags, check-lists and money in hand, James (my trusty driver) and I made our way through a maze of mud holes to the Oloolaimutia market. Everywhere I looked, I was greeted by a sea of smiling faces. Maasai men and women, draped in an array of vibrant fabrics and adorned with their finest bead work  made me seem out of place in my dusty khakis. My fascination with these people was also equalled by the amount of stares I received. However dressed, I still felt as though I belonged. After a few hours of shopping and a quick stop for some sodas, James and I returned to camp. The breeze we created as we raced home was a much welcomed relief from the midday sun. 

Crazy James, as he likes to be called, decided that as we had not seen wildlife on the way to the market, that the herds of cattle would become our zebra, the sheep our impala and the goats our gazelles. Luckily, on the return journey, we were rewarded with actual zebra, impala and gazelle sightings. 

Upon our return to Muthaiga camp, we proceeded to unload our stock, and although sweaty and stinky, James declared that I looked to be the happiest person in camp today. In that moment, I knew that I could rival Hepburn's role as the African Queen.