Leely2, on my map the confluence of Ol Keju Ronkai and the Mara is a wooded area, but a bit north of Lookout Hill where I was told the camp was being built. It could well be hippo breeding ground and the Mara is already over-developed, but it sounds like the main reason for the conflict is politicians with financial interests in different camps. William ole Ntimama is a nasty inciter of violence, but I suppose it’s good that he’s on the side of the rhinos. I don’t really know that much though.

Hello emowens! Thanks for commenting. Are you sure that the safaris have made you younger? I’m so much more aware that time is slipping away and time spent outside Kenya is time lost. Your quote is very true, but the mind’s eye is not enough even though it doesn’t need mascara. I investigated a bit and found out that it’s from A Glimpse of Paradise by Evelyn Ames.

I just got a phone call that I’m restarting private Spanish classes on Saturdays. I was going to continue the report and participate in threads on Friday evenings! Now I have some very unpleasant things to do – not doing them is risking the job that I hate and desperately need - and I really should be in bed to survive tomorrow. I’m sure people who are busier than I manage to keep up with everything important and Kenyan, but I’m just too useless.

Thanks, Julie!

Julie and Nymera thanks for identifying the author of my quote. Eden or Paradise is the perfect discription.

<b>Day 16</b>

My bags were ready for a move and I went to look for Moses, but couldn’t find him. Priscilla checked the book and said that I wasn’t moving until the next day. There had been a name written on the Friday lines, but it was crossed out and re-written on Saturday. Then I met Ofin who told me that the animals now were back on Crescent Island.

I’d been thinking of checking my email, but there was a sign at the office saying it was 100 shillings for ten minutes – ten times as expensive as in Nairobi. Now I decided to do it anyway. A man whose name I don’t remember said a could have a special 200-shilling surfing card for long stay guests, and showed me the way to a computer at the back of the restaurant. I had some connection problems, wrote a reply to an email and when I was going to send it I was disconnected. Then I was told Moses had opened the office and that I could try the computer there. At the office Moses asked how much I’d paid and I discovered that he had never heard anything about surfing cards. He went to talk to the other guy and came back saying it was OK. I kept getting disconnected and never managed to send the email and then Moses said there was no time left on my card and that I had to pay another 200. I said I might just as well throw my money into the lake and then I went down to the jetty to do almost exactly that. It’s very possible that Fisherman’s had an expensive Internet connection that they needed to make guests pay for, but I felt irritated anyway.

Bye, bye, big fat pink baby tourist. I was going to rent a small rowing boat and paddle it on my own to where the hippos were - I’m not that good at rowing. Unfortunately, the rowing boat was too big for me to paddle on my own, so I had to take Tobis with me. I got a very heavy wooden oar and remembered that my previous paddling experience was restricted to a rubber dinghy with plastic oars and downriver. I almost couldn’t lift the oar, but tried to look fit, which took a lot of charm from the hippo viewing. I asked Tobis how close we could paddle to the hippos without disturbing them and risking ending up in the water, but he was only interested in how close I wanted to go. I don’t know how often boats are attacked as it isn’t international nor Kenyan news as long as nobody gets killed, but a couple of years ago I read about a Swedish mother and daughter that ended up in the waters of Lake Naivasha when rowing too close to a hippo. I really didn’t want my camera, and definitely not my phone, to get wet. The hippos looked at us but I don’t think they got upset at all. I can recommend a hippo viewing paddling trip. I think it was just 500 shillings for an hour. Though a better way of doing it would have been to buy a plastic inflatable boat at a toy store in Nairobi and then donating it to some child after the hippo viewing.

After lunch I saw some information that the fees for Crescent Island were $14. I had read that if trying the get there by land there could be problems with a landowner whose land you’d have to cross, but Agnes, who was back from Nairobi where she had eaten hamburgers at Nandos with her husband and youngest daughter, said I would have no problems taking a matatu and then walking to Crescent Island.

Soon I was up on the road to wait for a matatu. The skies were getting dark and I saw it as a sign that the python rain goddess, Omieri, from the west, would make an apparition. I got on a matatu and was assured that I’d be let off at the right place. In “the village” there was a woman wearing a t-shirt with “Fisherpeople Have Human Rights Too” printed on it. I got off at Sanctuary Farm. There was a guard at the gate and he told me how to get to Crescent Island and not to take any notice of the un-welcoming signs. There were fences everywhere, lots of dust, very little grass and the sun was out to fry me again. Besides some horses there were zebras, so there must have been some kind of passage between the fences. After a long walk I reached a sandy racecourse with a lone wildebeest grazing on the middle of it. Someone had turned the trunk of a yellow barked acacia into a giant green foot with pink toenails. I continued my walk and came across some very European looking cattle with a herder who confirmed that I was on the right way. Then there was a gate and a sign saying “Bushy Island”.

The green bushiness was a complete contrast to what I’d seen so far and a giraffe was standing in the middle of the road. I went inside and 9 more giraffes appeared. The giraffes were definitely worth the long dusty walk and I thought they were just the beginning. I wanted to stay with them, but continued my walk passing a hill with some round huts and a nice looking house. A slim brown dog approached me growling. I could pat him, but then he started growling again. I didn’t feel comfortable with him at all. Then his pit bull-style friend appeared and came running towards me barking like a more normal dog and when he reached me he became very friendly. I continued and came across a herd of impalas and then I saw the Crescent Island sign and a sign saying, “the animals are wild … your own risk …etc.” No one was there to charge me the entrance fee, so I entered and looked around still without seeing anyone. There was a tall, very dry slope and I continued walking on the road at the base of the slope, maybe hoping to save the $14. I didn’t see any mammals at all. Some crowned plovers were very angry with me and suddenly someone looking like a ranger appeared at the top of the slope. I prepared myself to look like a stupid tourist, which wouldn’t be much of an effort. The ranger was carrying a price list on which I could see that the fee for non-residents was $25. Crescent Island was closing at 5pm and it was already almost 4.30, so I didn’t want to pay and said that I would be back the following day. The ranger consulted a female voice with a “white” Swahili accent on the walkie-talkie and she asked him to say they were very sorry and that I was welcome back the next day. I saw the impalas again, but I only heard the dogs and the giraffes had disappeared. There were a couple of more wildebeest on the racecourse and the sun was still fierce. I started fantasizing about warm soapy water for my very dirty feet and sandals. My plan was to have a look at the horse riding activity at Sanctuary Farm. I felt too paranoid to wear a loose braid on a matatu, but it could be interesting to see what it looked like. Then a blue Land Rover appeared and the white couple in it asked me where I was going. They were going to town, but could give me a lift up to the road and I hopped into the vehicle. Up on the road I was asked to slam the door hard to shut it and I managed to do it. This might seem a bit irrelevant to write about, but when I am given practical instructions like pressing the key to the left to close a door, I never manage to do it and it makes me come across as very stupid.

I was back at Fisherman’s before dark and did some colobus watching. There were good-sized, but not huge spiders in my banda. When I showed photos of them to Agnes she told me I should kill them. Agnes was very talented at dealing with people, but clueless about animals. Jeremiah was there as well and he said he had to talk to me about something important before I was leaving.

My torch hadn’t appeared and there were no hippos this night either. I didn’t bother to pack my bags.

I now wonder what Jeremiah had to talk to you about. Also I wonder why you might be paranoid about wearing a loose braid on a matatu.

Leely2, too many Kenyan women have told me that they “need” to make extensions of my hair.

Ohhh. Now I understand. Thanks, Nyamera! I hope the upcoming school week is relatively peaceful so that you can get more days of your trip report written.

Leely2, school is never peaceful. To me it’s always like several theatre performances before a hostile, or just bored (when you’re lucky), audience every day. And you’re considered fortunate if you get time to prepare these performances and aren’t bombarded with other school chores. Everything bad that happens is always the teacher’s fault; especially if the teacher is unqualified, but worst of all is that my job is being advertised when I need to stay at least until Christmas. I’m thinking of asking for advice about the group I have in English, but I’m afraid to get too involved in a thread.

This is exactly the kind of thing I should not be writing. When the report is finished I’ll post it on Safaritalk without unrelated whining.

Day 14,

Those pesky vervets, impersonating a tap dancing leopard--I always knew they were clever.

Even more people are impressed with your photos and may plan another safari based upon them.

I hope you increased your ornithological knowledge after the bird walk.

Your description of the emergency is as fascinating in its bluntness and perceptiveness as your descrption of your travels.

<b>Day 17</b>

At breakfast I was informed that I could stay in banda number 11 - my banda - for the two remaining nights, and then I put a water bottle in my small bag. I don’t normally carry bottles of water around, but I was going to have a picnic lunch on Crescent Island. It was getting too late to go to “the village” to buy food. Instead I bought a small packet of long-life milk, two bread buns and two bananas, and then I got on a matatu to Sanctuary Farm. Even though I, like the previous day, was wearing my leather sandals and not my flip flops (I was afraid of developing a pain between my toes) I bounced down to Crescent Island in 45 minutes. The pit bull type dog and a big brown dog gave me a barking welcome, and the growling dog was nowhere to be seen.

At the gate to Crescent Island there was a ranger who told me that to pay the entrance fee I’d have to walk up the tall dusty slope to a red-roofed house, which reminded me of bad service, but didn’t bother me, as I wanted to see the house. The garden was a green oasis full of birds and a young white, or even blond, woman appeared. She had long eyelashes, a nice dog and a wooden box where she put my 1,400 shillings. There was a good exchange rate for paying in shillings. I wouldn’t have to pay anything extra for a guide, but if he was “really, really good” I could tip him 200 shillings. On a table was the shedded skin of a big python. I was told to walk along the road at the top of the slope where a guide would meet me- and so I did. Outside a wooden hut two guides were sitting. I’d been thinking of whether I needed a guide or not and decided that I did if I was going to find a python, but the guides thought I could walk on my own, and said it was too dry to find a python anyway. I was told to keep away from bushy areas where buffaloes could be lurking and to leave my ticket with them and then collect it on my return. The guides said it would be a good idea to join a big group down the slope, but the group was too far away for me to catch up with even if I’d have wanted to. The animals were down on the outside of the crescent where I couldn’t see them. The crescent shape was clearly visible from the top of the island, which made me feel quite sure of not getting lost. It was very hot and this time it wasn’t some other person that was making me walk in the midday sun.

I decided to start with the inside of the crescent, and since the buffaloes and I had similar preferences, I had to walk quite close to the bushes next to the shore. I could always jump into the lake – with the hippos – if I were attacked. The possible presence of buffaloes made me feel slim and tanned, and I’m sure my eyes would have been open if anyone would have photographed me (they usually aren’t). It was a very pleasant feeling compared to the sadness I’d felt most of the time at Lake Naivasha. There were some guinea fowls and dikdiks that kept running away, a waterbuck having a drink of lake water and in the water there were hippos. For a while the animals were so scarce that I started photographing dead crayfish.

I reached the tip of the crescent and turned to the outer side where there was a lake bottom plain of dry mud with short green grass. After a while I saw some wildebeests and then some good-sized waterbuck herds. There were zebras and tommies and up among the yellow barked acacias there were some giraffes. I didn’t see any people at all. The sky had turned overcast and I could see dustdevils in the direction of Naivasha town. My plan had been to find a tree with good shade to have lunch under, but as the sun had been hidden, I just sat down on the plain among the animals. I arranged a still life out of my lunch and photographed it. Later it occurred to me that it would have been so much better with a wildebeest skull thrown in, but then I had already eaten most of the it, except a bun that was really tasteless and should be used for bird baiting. There was a tommie fawn on his own looking for his mother and I didn’t know what to do. As there were no predators, he’d probably starve to death. After a while I saw him joining a tommie herd in the distance, too far away to be sure that he found his mother. I wasn’t completely happy and the animals kept their distance from me (20 metres or so), but I thought that sitting there on the ground was one of less than two handfuls of highlights of my life and a little bit better than watching the zebra crossing in the Mara. Big numbers of wild animals is the only thing that makes life on earth bearable. I don’t know how to explain it, but it has something to do with noses, ears, whiskers, stares and being like me but completely different. People are irritatingly and stressfully identical to me. Though in Kenya they are a bit more entertaining.

There was thunder and lightning in the distance, and pelicans came circling on the wind above my head. I failed at getting a good picture of them and then I got up to continue my game walk. I found two dead wildebeests that were only nibbled at and higher up in a drier more wooded area there was a dead impala. I discovered that I had blisters on my heels and started regretting trying to walk in anything else than flip-flops. I had to put the back straps of my sandals under my feet and developed a shuffling walk. I encountered a couple of giraffes and Grant’s gazelles and then it started raining and I decided to return to where the guides were. Several pairs of crowned plovers got upset with me and one even made almost frightening aerial attacks.

There were four guides/rangers at the wooden hut and they all thought I should be glad that I didn’t see any buffaloes. I asked them if the animals at been away earlier in the week and the guides said that they were always around as they had nowhere to go.

The rain stopped before I reached Bushy Island and I got an sms from George (As you Like It) asking me when I’d be back in Nairobi (Monday). I thought about returning to Crescent Island, but I had already spent over four hours there. I didn’t see the dogs. Instead a young man from Samburu appeared. He was in the tourist industry and living on Bushy Island. He showed me a giraffe that was almost hidden in the bushes and some wildebeests on the racecourse. Then he asked me if I could find him a job in Sweden. This time the walk was much longer than 45 minutes. When almost up on the road I was found by another young man, who had seen me in the morning and decided that he had to ask me to help him find a job in the tourist industry. I told him that I was just a tourist, but he wasn’t convinced that I couldn’t get people jobs. He also suggested “sponsorship” and he wanted to come to Fisherman’s to sell me some asparagus. Buying asparagus is something I could and should have done, but I was so tired and lazy that I just explained that I wasn’t self-catering and wasn’t interested.

Back at Fisherman’s everything was wet as there had been good rains. I started scrubbing myself and then I lay down on my bed. A vehicle playing repetitive music with incestuous swearwords in the lyrics arrived and I decided to get up before falling asleep. When I got up I saw that a group of young Kenyans were touristing at Fisherman’s. It was interesting, as you don’t see that many Kenyan tourists in Kenya. I got an sms from Kamara asking me if I could do the Nairobi NP game drive on Monday. I said Tuesday would be better as I didn’t know what time I’d be in Nairobi. It was OK and As you Like It would find someone to take me there as Kamara would be home in Nakuru (where he had moved in January).

Then Jeremiah appeared asking me if he could spend the night in my banda. The reason for wanting this was that he had “loved” me since the first time he saw me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not out and about that much, but I found this improper behaviour from someone who had told me about his wife and two children. I told Jeremiah there were three beds and that he could spend the night if he brought his wife, and he wasn’t imaginative enough to find this even more “interesting”. He suggested just giving me a massage and then leaving, but I preferred a massage in the restaurant, which he wouldn’t give me as his boss could see it.

This night the nine hippos were back - because of the rain, said Osman. And a camper said that he had spent 26 years in Kenya – all his life, I suppose - without seeing a hippo out of the water.

Day 15

A big fat pink baby tourist--I'm still chuckling at that. If you are then many of the rest of us are too.

I can imagine the thoughts going through your head when the line of panga toting men approached. I'm glad there is an effort to thwart poaching of any kind, including the fish.

Have you though about dental hygenist?

Impatiently waiting for the stupid part.

Day 16

For a pink baby tourist, you are pretty adventurous. I think it was good you had a rowing partner in the boat and did not go hippo viewing alone.

I take it you did not kill the spiders as you were told to do.

Leely2, there has already been some serious stupidity in this report. Though stupidest of all is my inability to continue writing.

Lynn, I hope the spiders are still alive.

Dental hygienist? It’s 3 years at school and I don’t want to be a dental hygienist. Do I have to? Can’t anyone come up with something dangerous that wouldn’t require going to school? I’d like a completely teenage-free work environment, but I wouldn’t mind some landmines. The michaels had some good ideas about the rescue service, but they are only looking for specialists. http://www.raddningsverket.se/templa...____19744.aspx

This thread should be about my stupidest trip so far ...

Great report

Day 17 Loved your still life lunch and observations around that time of people and animals.

Jeremiah seems a bit stupid.

Maybe the stupidity is all of us looking for stupidity in your report when there really is no stupidity, just yearning against great odds.

I've caught up at last. Actually it's Nyamera's best trip report so far. I am no longer going to dispute the stupidity of the trip, but I really like reading the report. I hope there is more...

Thanks, Tempusfugit.

Lynn, thanks for the very telling phrase “yearning against great odds”. The reason the odds are so great is that I’m so stupid.

Thanks, Kimburu. I will finish the report before Christmas. What about your report? You promised some stupidity, but I’ve only heard about wild dogs and pangolin.

<b>Day 18</b>

In the morning I went for a walk to “the village” where I didn’t do anything. I should have walked up to Top Camp to see if there had been a transformation after the rains, but I didn’t. Instead I tried to photograph some hoopoes that kept flying away. I was tired and sat down in the grass waiting for the birds to come. I had my small bird book and decided to read it cover to cover, but was too sleepy. I was going to lie down to sleep when two vaguely familiar men came strolling along the papyrus edge, sodas in hands, and sat down on a bench not far from me. They definitely looked like they knew me, so I got up to talk to them. One of them, James, said that we had talked when I was walking back to Fisherman’s from Elsamere and I pretended that I remembered him. He wanted to know when I was leaving and what I would give him as a farewell gift. I got irritated and asked him if I looked like Father Christmas, but James just smiled patiently saying that he needed a mobile phone with Internet. I said he could get some Swedish words if he gave me some Kisii words and we started exchanging. Though I didn’t even bother to go and get my pen and notebook from where I’d been sitting in the grass, and now I don’t remember anything. James’s friend added some words, but I think he was basically there as a hanger-on or moral support or something. Then James started asking me how to visit Sweden and I told him the approximate airfare. I’m not sure the visa application would be completely straightforward, but I didn’t say anything about that. James had a good job in the flower industry, but he would never be able to pay the airfare. He said he could pay a little bit and then I could sponsor him. I told him I needed someone to sponsor my Kenya trips, but that was a stupid thing to say, as I had obviously been able to visit Kenya several times without sponsorship. After a while James said he should be heading home for lunch. He would have invited me if he were living on his own, but now his wife was there – and then he left saying he’d be back to say goodbye the next morning when I was leaving.

I returned to the grass and then I went to the restaurant were James and his friend were sitting at a table having some chips. I said hello and went straight to the bar for my last lunch at Fisherman’s. After lunch I bought a small Cadbury fruit and nuts bar of the kind I’d planned for the torch-stealing Kiwis to buy me. At home there’s no Cadbury chocolate, for some reason, but for the same price I’d got three similarly sized good low-quality chocolate bars.

Back at my banda I ate the chocolate and then I fell asleep.

When I woke up I went down to the jetty. There were pied kingfishers everywhere, but I was again too slow to photograph them hovering over the water. Then I went after the hoopoes that were equally un-cooperative. It got dark and the nine hippos came up to graze. A young girl who had recently arrived in Kenya kept asking if they were real.

I was going to finish my last dinner with the Amarula cheesecake that I’d thought about every time that I’d read the menu which I was beginning to know by heart, but it wasn’t available this night and I had chocolate cake instead. It was like a slightly moist chocolate sponge cake and it was served with curdled un-whipped cream. I don’t know why.

I said goodbye to the hippos and returned to my banda where I started packing and photographing my spiders. Then I wondered if I could have spent the day in some better way.

I was just thinking it was about time for another installment. You read my mind Keep it coming!