MyDogKyle

Hi guys! Thanks for your interest and sorry I dropped the ball for a bit... things have been very busy at home. I'm working on it, and will post another installment later today.

MyDogKyle

PART 4 – “A Camel Traffic Jam and Several Kinds of Tuskers” (Sept. 25th, 2007)

This morning we got out of bed early with someone outside our door saying, “wake up for the mountain!” Last night we’d completed a checklist to let the staff know which animals we wanted to be woken up for during the night (which didn’t really make a difference since we were up most of the night anyway!), and one of the additional boxes we’d checked was “view of Mt. Kenya.” We bundled up in hats and jackets and went up to the roof to admire the morning light over the forest and a clear view of the peaks and glaciers at the top of Mt. Kenya. Since the most dramatic part of the mountain had been shrouded in clouds yesterday afternoon, it was wonderful to have a good look at it. We would see the mountain several more times during our travels through Kenya, but never with a view this close and clear.

The waterhole was already hopping, with a raucous troop of baboons running around, babies clinging to their backs like tiny jockeys. We were almost late checking out by 8am, because we were so caught up in watching them. We really enjoyed our short stay at this lodge, and had not expected such nonstop action here. I think it’s a perfect start to a safari, sort of an appetizer to the main course. The setting is beautiful with the rich green forest landscape and the views of the mountain, quite a contrast to the other parks we visited. Even as we drove out of the park, sleep-deprived but happy, we were treated to the sight of four black and white colobus monkeys, sitting high up in a bare tree with their gorgeous long tails hanging down against a bright blue sky. James got very excited when he spotted them, and told us that he usually didn’t see them in this area. They kept a wary eye on us but were courteous enough to pose for pictures, as if they knew how beautiful they were. Our bull elephant from yesterday was gone by now, of course, but in his place the flower-strewn meadow was filled with mother and baby elephants, so we paused to watch them, too.

Then the long drive began – through the greens and reds of Kikuyu country, with a pause on the Equator to take the obligatory photo under the “You’re Crossing the Equator!” sign (another, more distant, view of Mt. Kenya here… and lots of smiling vendors with little wooden animals), and onward north into the dusty heart of Samburu land. We did buy a few gifts for our families in one of the Equator shops, after the owner obligingly snapped our photo and then invited us to “just come look around.” As usual, it was the awkward business of bargaining with someone who kept (nicely) reminding us how much more money we had than he did, and knowing that was true but not wanting to get totally ripped off. In the end, we felt we got a fair enough price for things we would have bought anyway, I’m sure he made a good buck off us, and everyone left happy. Before we left, the guys in the shop asked me if we had any magazines that we “were finished with,” and I felt bad because I’d had some on the plane and tossed them out when I finished reading them. So I thought I would mention it here – several times during the trip local people were interested to know if we had any reading materials to pass along. So, something to think about if you finish reading something midway through your trip and are willing to leave it behind.

Just beyond Nanyuki we started to get to those really bad roads that we’d heard so much about – huge ruts and potholes, the minibus lurching up and down. More signs along the way: the “Gender Equity Bar,” “By-Faith Agrichemicals,” and something called “Sacred Heart Road Murmuring” (what the heck is road murmuring??). We stopped to fill up at a snazzy gas station in Isiolo and James announced, “Now he is OK – he got some ice cream.” Across from the gas station we saw a sign for a “Jazz Studio,” which really warmed the hearts of two trombone players like ourselves.

Isiolo really felt like a wild west town, crowded with people and animals and trash drifting by along the roads. There was an edge here that we didn’t feel quite the same way in other Kenyan towns we passed through. And this is also were the REAL Bumpy Road Madness began. We had to pull our buffs over our faces and shut all the windows despite the intense heat, and still there was dust everywhere, sifting into the van through every crack and crevice. We bounced and rattled over a loose gravel and dust-cloud road, our teeth and spines jolting. When we stopped at a police checkpoint on the outskirts of Isiolo, our minibus was immediately surrounded by women hawking fruit, guys holding up arms with ten wristwatches on each and lighters in both hands, and enterprising kids trying to chat us up through the windows, putting their faces right up to the glass and asking us where we were from and whether we wanted to be their friends. One boy in a dapper fedora introduced himself as Daniel and kept asking my husband questions, all of which led to his main point: “What can you give me, sir, now that we are friends? Americans have always been very good to me.” And on and on. It’s tough to know what to do in those circumstances, but we’re in the camp that says it’s fine to buy bananas or local crafts (or, hey, a wristwatch if you really want one) but not to go randomly handing out things to kids just for asking. So, I guess we were not very good friends to little Daniel, at least not the way he wanted us to be. We were relieved when James finally climbed back into the ice cream bus and we could be on our way. This kind of difficult balancing act is just one of those things about travel in the developing world – finding ways to be friendly and talk with local people along the way, without too insensitively dashing their hopes that you’ll start handing out money (or, worse, actually handing out money and leading people to believe that everyone from your country is made of the stuff, and it’s the only reason they should bother to talk to you).

The road from Isiolo to Archer’s Post was one long, bumpy, jarring, dusty, pitted gravel nightmare, but at last we neared Samburu national park and began to recognize the mud-stick-newspaper humps of Samburu homes. We saw a very dramatic sight as we drove across a bridge over the Ewaso Ng’iro River: some men were trying to herd a huge, writhing and very upset group of camels across the river (the crocodile-infested river, as James pointed out!), and the camels were having none of it. Meanwhile, several women walking across the bridge beside us were yelling to the hapless camel drivers (“cursing them out,” James explained), while some other men sitting under a nearby tree laughed at the whole frantic spectacle. “I don’t know why they won’t just use the bridge,” James sighed. I got the sense from their expressions and gestures that the women were saying basically the same thing, in less kind terms. When we passed by this same spot several days later all signs of camels and their frustrated owners were gone, so they must have reached some sort of agreement about crossing that river (or not).

Our camp in Samburu was an incredible surprise. As I mentioned at the start of my report, we were supposed to stay at Samburu Intrepids, but had been bumped because they were behind schedule in upgrading their tents and did not have room for all their bookings. So instead they switched us to a much smaller (and, I learned from Serah, much more expensive – thank goodness we didn’t have to pay the difference!) tented camp called Elephant Bedroom. The camp has a beautiful setting, right on the banks of the Ewaso N’giro River, with the six tents set back beneath towering doum palms and no fences in sight. We were still a bit shell-shocked from the drive, and so it took us a moment to understand why James asked us not to get out of the minibus for a moment. Then we saw them, our welcoming committee: three huge elephants who’d wandered into the camp and were busy grazing beside the dining tent! We all waited until they’d finished and decided to move on, and then the camp staff came out to greet us with warm towels to wash the dust from our faces and cool fruit juice to wash the rest of the dust down our throats.

Looking around, we could not believe our good fortune. The camp was absolutely beautiful, and I loved all the outdoor spaces – the dining tent and sitting area opened out to a small clearing where we had lunch and breakfast and a campfire at night. The “gift shop” was an assortment of beaded collars and bracelets hanging on a fallen log. And facing the river under a thick fringe of palms (whose shape reminded me of the inverted triangle of an elephant’s head) were two wonderfully slouchy outdoor sofas where we kicked back and watched an elephant crossing the river upstream from our camp. Our tent was a marvel, and also a bit of an embarrassment (we really didn’t need two beds, or anything this big!). But I loved how open it was to the surroundings, and after a few long days on safari I’ll admit I really did love the comfortable bed and the glorious rainfall shower. Plus, I would have reason, later, to be very glad there was a bathroom attached to our tent (and not for the reason you’re thinking…) We especially loved our little front patio with chairs facing the river and a small grassy patch where we noticed some dried elephant dung (or, as one guide called it, “wheatabix”). As we settled our duffle bags into the tent, the staff explained the rules: no walking around camp at night, even though the paths were well-lit by lanterns. When we were ready to come to dinner, we were supposed to stand by our tent flap and wave a flashlight for someone to come escort us. And always, always make sure the tent flap was securely zipped with the mat pulled up over the zipper when we left (monkey security). We also learned that only three of the tents were occupied, so we had the place practically to ourselves.

I’m going to interrupt my own narrative here to just say how much we loved Elephant Bedroom – how friendly and kind the staff was, going out of their way to make us feel welcome; how delicious the food was at every meal; how beautifully the camp blends in with its surroundings and how close we felt to nature there. I have nothing but the highest praise for this place, and was so sorry we could not stay more than two nights! One of the few things I’ve read about the camp on this forum had to do with the negatives of putting more lodges and camps into the Samburu area, and while I certainly understand people’s unhappiness about the potential for over-development, I was glad to see that the camp was very small and was doing some things to minimize its footprint. No fancy swimming pool or huge dining room or 24-hour electricity and hot water here, and we did not miss them one bit.

Now, the real game drives would begin! We left for our first one at 4pm, after lunch and a chance to take a nap and let the day cool off a bit. Now, I know if I describe every moment of every game drive in a 20-day trip, it will take me years to finish this report! The basic routine goes like this: we head out from camp to, as James puts it, “see what we can see.” The roof is popped up on the minivan, so we’re either sitting and looking out the open windows, or else standing watching out the open roof, with the wind in our faces. The sky is so wide here, the landscape rugged and dry but also more colorful than I’d ever imagined – red and copper earth, dirt tracks heading off through scrub and flat-topped acacia trees toward purple-blue mountains in curious shapes, triangles and buttes. “Like an African Monument Valley,” is how my husband described it. And then there’s the river too, a thick winding band like chocolate milk surrounded by rows of towering palms and pink dirt banks. It all feels very wild, elemental, and so beautiful. Sometimes I’d get so caught up in the beauty of the landscape, I almost forgot to look for the animals!

Elephants continued to be our good luck charm here. The first animals we saw were a family of elephants, mothers and babies of varying ages. I never got tired of watching elephants, no matter how many times we encountered them on this trip. These moms were busy digging a pit for the babies to slosh around in the mud, and several of the smaller babies tumbled down into the mud hole and had to scramble a bit not to land on their heads. It was interesting to see how occasionally the older females would step back and let a younger one assist the babies and take on the “mother” role – helping them climb up the steep side of the mud hole, for example. Sitting beside them on a branch (and posing nicely for us against a red earth backdrop) was one of my favorite African birds, the spectacularly colorful lilac-breasted roller. (Yeah, I know it’s not very original to pick that guy as a favorite! How could anyone resist?)

As we continued exploring in the gorgeous golden light of late afternoon, more and more animals appeared, mostly individuals or small groups rather than large herds. We saw warthogs, impalas, the startlingly long-necked gerenuks who were the first of our “Samburu 5.” Then cape buffalo with their entourage of birds trailing along after them and riding on their backs, reticulated giraffes (our second of the Samburu 5), guinea fowl both helmeted and vulturine, and a spunky little family of dik-diks (male, female and teeny tiny baby).

And one false alarm. James turned his radio on at one point, clearly concerned that we weren’t seeing cats. Well, it wasn’t long before someone was announcing a lion sighting, so we zoomed off to try to find it for us. There was a group of three or four cars, and everyone was straining to peer into the scrubby bushes, trying to make it out. Was that a tail? An ear? No, wait – maybe that thing over there? After a few minutes, James said dryly, “I think that is a bush.” And so we left and went back to wandering around, seeing what animals we could find. (Even though we mentioned this to him, it took James a few days to realize that we did not have any specific “goals” of seeing lions or anything else, and that we did not expect or want him to run around trying to find the Big 5 for us – he must have so many clients that think this way, I think he didn’t really believe us the first few times we told him that we were happy just seeing whatever we found along the way!)

Then, another breaking Swahili newsflash over the radio. James asked us to sit down and took off driving like a shot, the ice cream bus rattling wildly over the rutted dirt roads, past the river and into a more densely forested area. And there we saw it – a lone tree surrounded by 23 cars, vans, buses, Land Rovers, and huge overland trucks, everyone’s heads popping up through the roofs and gigantic camera lenses pointed up into the branches. “Leopard!” James announced triumphantly. Well, with that kind of audience, what else could it be?

It took a moment, but then we saw her, draped nonchalantly over a branch with tail and paws dangling, the picture of relaxation. A leopard! Our first cat, the third of our Big 5 – all those things we thought we didn’t care about, checklists and biases toward the big predators and all that. I mean, she was so beautiful it made me giddy. We hung out with her mob of adoring fans for a while, watching her adjust herself several times into increasingly more floppy positions on the branches. Then, to our delight, she was on the move. She sat up and let loose with a tremendous yawn, and then made her way carefully down the tree trunk so that we got a great look at her, finally leaping down into the tall grass and disappearing like a ghost. Did I enjoy having to “share” her with so many other vehicles? No. And do I think it was a good thing for her, to have such a circus attend her every move? No, of course not. But I’m happy to report that this was the only mob-scene sighting we had in our entire trip, despite the stories I’ve heard about East Africa being terrible for that sort of thing. And would I trade the experience of having seen a leopard in the wild, when I went to Africa dead certain that we would not see a leopard at all? No, I wouldn’t. It was an unforgettable moment for me, even if the circumstances were a bit odd.

Elated, we headed back to camp, having to hurry now that the light was quickly fading. James drove us to a spot on the high banks of the river, where we joined the rest of the guests from our camp for sundowners – our first taste of this wonderful safari tradition. Our host was one of the young Samburu guides from camp, who joked with us that we were waiting for “the appearance of the white elephant.” Tusker beers, a campfire, a nearly-full moon rising over the river. We toasted our leopard, and that she’d escaped her mob of paparazzi. What a blissful way to end our first game drive!\

Back at camp, we sat by the roaring campfire (which got a little too roaring at one point, when the fire bowl almost tipped over from the weight of a log!), followed by a delicious dinner with banana fritters and chocolate sauce for dessert. One of the guys at camp wandered around playing soft, hypnotic music on a traditional flute, to warn away any elephants that might wander by. As we fell exhausted into bed, we could not imagine anything more wonderful than this place, and we felt like the luckiest people in the world.

Patty

I think we met little Daniel too. I remember the "Americans have always been very good to me part" unless that's what every kid in Isiolo says

More, more, more, please!

Leely

I hadn't realized you had started back up. Love how descriptive your report is. As Patty said, more, more, more!

luv2globetrot

You paint such a wonderful picture with your words!!!
What an exciting excerpt that was!
Keep it coming!
>-

MyDogKyle

Thanks, guys! Sorry the holidays have me swamped, and I've fallen way behind on this. Here's another installment...

PART 5 – “Elephants in Our Bedroom” (Sept. 26th, 2007)

1:30am. Elephant Bedroom, Samburu. We awoke to a soft snuffling sound outside our tent, and the nearly silent shift of huge, stealthy bodies moving through foliage. Then, the most wonderful sound—the low rumbling that elephants make when they talk to one another. We crept out of bed and, as quietly as possible, unzipped a tiny notch in the tent flap so we could peek outside. There they were—in front of our tent and surrounding us on three sides, less than ten feet away. It was a group of moms and larger youngsters, busily stripping leaves off shrubs and selecting the best parts of the grassy patch at the front of our tent. We watched them for more than an hour, illuminated by the full moon and so close we could hear their every breath and chomp and grunt. Finally, exhausted, we had to silently wish them good night and try to get some sleep. It was an absolutely amazing experience to be so close to them, and to fall back asleep to their soft conversation. The next morning the paths from the tents to the dining room were dotted with fresh elephant dung. As we talked excitedly about our late-night visitors, James told us that he was trapped in his tent desperately needing to go to the restroom and had to wait hours for the elephants to leave! So, I greatly appreciated our attached bathroom and was sorry to hear that the guides’ tents did not have that luxury. That is definitely where I am a safari wimp!

This morning we left for our first game drive at 6:30, heading off before breakfast “to see what we can see,” as James always said. The light was absolutely stunning at this time of day, bringing out the deep russet tones of a reticulated giraffe’s coat and the red in the earth and the rocks, making everything glow. In addition to more of those beautiful giraffes, we saw another gerenuk, dik-diks, warthogs, waterbucks, grant’s gazelles, impalas, buffalos, and some stunning birds: superb starlings (who were also always hovering around camp, waiting to pounce on the tables at meals), ring-necked doves, a honeybill with her baby, plovers, and a flashy, preening secretary bird. We also spotted an impressive crocodile sunning himself beside the river. Our grand finale to the game drive was another sighting to add to our “Samburu 5” – a large herd of grevy’s zebra and beisa oryx (one of my favorite African animals.) One of the zebras put on quite a show of rolling in the dirt not far from our bus, stirring up a huge cloud of dust and kicking his hooves into the air.

After returning to the lodge for breakfast, we set off around 10am to visit a nearby Samburu village. (On the drive out of the reserve, we saw an unusual sight: a guinea fowl couple with one helmeted and the other vulturine. James told us it was extremely odd for them to pair up this way, but they looked quite happy together.) To be perfectly honest, I’d been a bit uncertain about the village visits and whether or not I wanted to include them, having read about other people’s experiences with it and knowing we were willingly going into a contrived “tourist” experience. Unlike some of the other places we’ve traveled (India immediately springs to mind!), there seems to be a much greater divide in East Africa between tourists on safari and regular folks living in these countries. By this I mean, if you’re on the safari circuit you don’t necessarily have much opportunity to meet anyone other than the people working directly in the tourist industry. (Of course, this would be different depending on the type of travel, how much time you spend in the cities, etc.) But we really wanted to have some experience of African cultures in addition to the wonderful experience we’d been having with the wildlife, and visiting a village is one of the ways to do that. I think it helped a lot to go into it expecting a performance and a photo op—realizing that this would be just a little peek into someone else’s world rather than a chance to really get to know the people who live there. There’s really no way to avoid feeling like a dorky tourist in this kind of situation.

The minute we arrived, a young man names Moses approached our bus and took us over to watch a dance demonstration that had just started for another group of tourists. He collected $25 for the visit, assured us we could take all the photos and video we wanted, and then told me that I was “lucky” to be a woman because I would get to dance with them in just a moment while my husband could take pictures. I cringed inwardly -- dancing is definitely not up my alley -- but I would play along to be polite. They started off with a welcome song and dance, the women singing and the men showing off their incredible high-jumping skills (straight up in the air, pogo-style, to impress the girls). Then the women sang a love song, and all of us women in the audience were decked out in beautiful beaded collars and invited to join in. I felt pretty darn stupid and definitely couldn’t get that Samburu head-and-neck move down, but it was more fun than I’d expected to get in there with everyone and be a part of things. I really appreciated that the folks from the village seemed to be having fun, good-naturedly teasing us and holding our hands and seeming genuinely warm and friendly, not annoyed by having to do this sort of thing for us. (Or, if they did feel annoyed they were good actors!) The singing was terrific, and we were thrilled with the video and photos when we were able to look back on them later.

When they’d finished dancing, the women took our hands and led our small group past the acacia thorn fence and into the village, where the other tourists went off with their own guide and we went with Moses. He spent a long time with us, telling us about Samburu traditions that govern the lives of the young men, or morani, who are “warriors” with responsibility for the security of the village and its animals. We met several of these guys and had a chance to talk with them and admire their elaborate beaded jewelry and ochre-smeared hair. The guys showed us how they build a fire out in the bush, and talked at length about the various practical uses of animal dung – donkey and zebra dung is dry and makes for good fire; elephant is too wet to be very useful; goat is burned inside the house as a mosquito repellent.

We had a chance to meet some women and children too, and to go inside one of the huts. They are made from cow dung plaster on a frame of branches, with cow skin floor mats and newspaper added to the plaster roof to reinforce it. The women build these houses themselves (and in fact, it seems, do almost all of the work in the manyatta), and each has three tiny rooms—a small sitting room at the entrance, a little kitchen, and a larger sleeping area for the whole family at the back. We sat in the bedroom while Moses told us about home life for the people in his village, and as we looked around the home we were pleased to see that it really looked lived-in: clothing and a tote bag hanging from the wall supports in a sort of makeshift “closet,” dirty dishes in the kitchen and a little goat wandering in and out. It definitely did not look like a pristine little hut built for tourists (something we’d think about again when we visited a Maasai village later in our safari…). We chatted just a little (via Moses’ translation) with the home’s “mama,” a young woman with a charming little baby girl. The woman seemed really pleased that we stopped and admired her daughter, asking how old the little girl was and telling her that we have a niece the same age. (I got the sense that she was used to being ignored by the tourists, and Moses had not even acknowledged her when we first went into the house.) The little girl hurried to the door as we were leaving and waved after us, calling out, “Lesele!” with a big smile.

It was also really interesting to see some of the huts that were still being built, recycling the roofs from previous homes and building new walls. The children in the village had assembled several “play houses” nearby, using stones on the ground set out in the shape of a floor plan—sitting room, kitchen, bedroom. We saw some of these kids heading back toward the village with their herds of goats, and they stopped to wave at us. At this point we also asked Moses a bit more about himself, and found out that he had just taken his exams at school and was waiting for the results, and that he hoped to go to university and become a doctor. He became very talkative the more we asked him about himself, and we ended up staying much longer than the other group of tourists… which meant that we had to face the final bit of the tour, the “shopping gauntlet,” by ourselves. This was the part I’d really been dreading. Moses took us to “meet the blacksmith and see his shop,” which really meant we were expected to buy a bunch of souvenirs. They had an impressive display of carvings and amber necklaces and beaded jewelry, and my husband did an admirable job of bargaining down from the astronomical prices they set at first (for example, they started off asking $100 for a beaded collar and we bargained down to $35, but we later saw a similar one in a lodge gift shop for $25). We bought some gifts for our families and the beaded collar I’d worn for the dancing, and still probably overpaid but felt like we got a reasonable deal overall. I’m just not much of a shopper and definitely not a good bargainer, so I was relieved when we finally agreed on a price for everything and said our goodbyes. I know a part of what you pay for is the experience of buying your souvenirs in this setting, rather than in a gift shop with a cash register, but it’s still a little awkward to be bargaining with people who have so little. And it felt more than a little awkward when we walked out of the “blacksmith shop” area and into a long line of women with beaded jewelry and wood carvings stretched out along the length of our walk back to James’ bus. I wasn’t prepared for that, and if I’d known they were setting that up while we were in the “shop,” I would have saved some of my gift-buying for them. As it was, we didn’t have the money or time to buy more and had to ask Moses to explain to them that we were sorry but we couldn’t buy anything else today.

Other than being uncomfortable with the role of “cash cow” (and my bad dancing), I really did enjoy our visit to this village and I felt like we got much more out of the experience than we’d anticipated. I would definitely recommend it to anyone who is interested in having a closer look at some aspects of the Samburu way of life, but I think you have to be prepared for some awkwardness and know that what you’re seeing is by necessity a demonstration. I don’t at all blame the Samburu people for not wanting tourists traipsing through their villages when they are actually going about their private lives. This way they can have control over the experience and make some much-needed income from the tourists’ interest in their culture. But you do have to realize that you’re only getting part of the story—there’s no mention, for instance, of some of the harsh treatment that Samburu women are subjected to. Not that I expected to hear about that. And if photography is important to you, it is a wonderful opportunity to take portraits of people and photos of their homes with relatively little awkwardness about whether and how much you should offer to pay them. I’m sure you can tell I have mixed feelings about the whole enterprise, but overall I think it was a valuable experience for us, and I’m glad we did not entirely ignore the people in favor of the animals.

Speaking of the animals… Our late afternoon game drive was another productive one, and as usual James somehow managed to save the best for last (we’re not sure how he always managed to “plan” things so perfectly!). We saw more grevy’s zebras, warthogs running with their tails high in the air, elephant moms making a mud hole for their little babies to play in, a male impala in a full-speed chase after a female, and some huge buffalo boys. Down by the river we saw another big croc and some marabou storks. We heard an eagle terrorizing a flock of guinea fowl, and understood a little of their terror when we could not identify where the menacing sound was coming from (although we saw the panicked guinea fowl, we never did see the eagle). As we were getting close to closing time (sunset) and the light was becoming more and more intense, James suddenly said, “You want to see a show?” He pointed out two huge male giraffes not far ahead of us. As we approached, we saw that they were fighting furiously, in that oddly graceful way that giraffes fight—it’s not a head-to-head combat but rather a delicate side-by-side dance. The giraffes stared each other down for long, tense minutes, and then began swinging their heads and necks around to bash each other so hard we could hear the mighty thud of impact. It was an incredible sight, and seemed as though it might go on for hours… until a female giraffe showed up and both boys went eagerly over to her to investigate.

Driving back to camp we were still so excited about the giraffe fight and convinced that would be our day’s closer. But no—nothing on safari is ever exactly how you expect it to be. On our hurry back to camp in the waning light, we came across four female lions, just waking up for their evening hunting action. Our first lions! They were simply gorgeous, sleek and strong, with glowing spotted coats. It was fascinating to see how they changed from one moment to the next: kitten-like when they were lying down and rolling around in the grass, then slightly menacing as they got up and stalked purposefully past our minibus and off into the pink-tinged twilight. At one point a lioness passed so close beneath my window, I could see every hair on her back.

As if the lions weren’t enough, a group of mother and baby elephants crossed the road in front of us at the turn-off to our camp, milling around on both sides of the road so that we had to drive very cautiously between them. They made a striking picture with a nearly-full moon rising in the dusky sky behind them. One of the big females made a mock charge at us, and as we passed the last of their group, a tiny baby gave a shrill little trumpet, flapped his ears, and mock-charged us too! Now that is the perfect ending to a day on safari.

luv2globetrot

It just keeps getting better and better!!

I LOVED your tale about the elephants outside your tent! I had to call my husband over and read it to him, giddy with excitement, and telling him, "Can you just imagine!!??" We get so excited to see deer in our backyard or a cool bird we've never seen before...I cannot even imagine the thrill of having elephants RIGHT THERE outside your tent!
Fabulous!

I also really enjoyed your account of the village visit. I feel the same as you do, very ambivalent, wanting to engage with the people, but not feeling like a dorky tourist, not to mention the "cash cow" part.
Thank you for your enlightening account.
We will definitely do the village visit, probably in Samburu as you did. That it why I love this forum so much. Hearing about your experience and your vivid picture you paint really helps us with our decision.

And, boy,what a finish to an amazing day! The lions and the baby elephant!!! You're making our countdown so much fun...281 days to go!!!!!!!!!

By the way, if you don't mind me asking...I love your writing style and your vivid account.
Did you write this account down while you were in Africa or are you just now writing this from memory?
Or maybe a combination of both, took notes while there and are adding the emotional, colorful detail now?
I ask because I am just amazed at how wonderful your report is...KUDOS!

>- Lisa

MyDogKyle

Thanks, Lisa! Glad you're enjoying it. I keep worrying about how long this report is getting to be... especially considering our trip was three weeks long! So, it's encouraging that some of you are still reading, and I will keep plugging away.

About the writing -- We carried a notebook with us on every game drive and jotted down notes, impressions about places we visited, etc. This is usually my husband's job, and then I write the actual journals of our trips and he illustrates them. That way we have ideas and thoughts from both of us in there. I take the notes and write the jounrnal from that. Although I was working on the journal off and on while in Africa, I really had very little time to do it (and was pretty sleep-deprived during our safari!), so I actually have about a weeks' worth still to finish up.

For this trip report, I'm copying some things out of my journal but leaving out a lot (believe it or not!), and then adding some thoughts that I hope might be useful for someone planning a trip. I found this forum so, so helpful when we were in the planning stage (and really fun during the anticipation stage!), so I hope I can contribute to that for other people. But I know I am pretty long-winded as a writer. My master's thesis was nearly 300 pages, and my novel is more than 800! Anyway, I'm so glad you guys are reading, and it's fun to relive it all as I'm writing.

aknards

MyDogKyle,

Fabulous account, beautifully written with so much personality - a real treat. thanks

atravelynn

Your ele encounter was surreal. Nice detailed account of the Samburu visit. It appears you may be comparing and contrasting this visit with an upcoming one. Yes? You've done an outstanding job of retelling your trip.

Camel Traffic Jam is next.

MyDogKyle

Sorry if my titles were misleading... the camel "traffic jam" was the one in the river.

Yes, I was setting up a contrast between our Samburu village visit and one we did later in the Masai Mara. Since it will probably take quite some time for me to get to that part of the trip, I'll briefly say here that we thought the experience was much, much better in the Samburu village, because Moses actually took a lot of time to talk with us and people there seemed much happier about the whole enterprise. Our guide James recommended that we visit both to see that differences between the two, and there were some interesting differences. But overall, the Maasai visit was much more of a hard sell, we were rushed through the village in about 20 minutes and nobody seemed very happy to have tourists there. I'll write more about that later, but just thought it might be worthwhile to mention now.

luv2globetrot

Thanks for the explanation of your method of compiling your thoughts and turning them into your report.

...Your novel????? I'm intrigued! Please share
You certainly have a wonderful writing style!

Holidays are such a busy time.
Take your time and continue when you can.
I'll definitely be ready to read more whenever you post!
>-

atravelynn

Actually I was reading out of order. I should have read the camel part first, but missed it. I'll look forward to going back to that.

If you ever have an unattached bathroom, you might be given a bedpan. I have a few times, but did not need it.

The helumted and vulterine guinea fowl relationship may be typical of the odd pairings in the northern parks of Kenya. Elsewhere in that general region was the lion and the oryx calf combo.

atravelynn

Congrats on the upgrade. Elephant Bedroom seems wonderful. How many people have leopard as their first cat? Lucky.

Nyamera

Wonderful report. I have to return to Samburu, I have to google Elephant Bedroom and I also have to get some more information about that 800-page novel of yours. What’s the best way of asking?

CarleenD

I share your ambivalence about the village visit. I took one in Fiji where they actually didn't ask for money (tipping is considered impolite there), but I still wasn't comfortable with someone's home & way of life being taken as a tourist attraction. "Look how the poor & down-trodden live!" So I skipped the Namibian village walk we could have taken in Botswana, even though it was already paid for in our package. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Regardless of that, I'm loving every detail of your trip! Please keep writing!!

MyDogKyle

Thanks for all the nice posts, everyone -- you guys are keeping me motivated (even if you can't tell by the slow pace of my postings...) I do kind of wish I hadn't mentioned my novel, though... I was just trying to make a point about my extreme wordiness! But for those who asked, it's (sadly) unpublished. I've had several agents read it and give me positive feedback, but they just didn't think it was commercial enough. So, I wouldn't really say I'm a writer--I just write for fun, and pay my bills by working as a researcher. Maybe I ought to write something about people on safari, since there seems to a built-in audience out there... At least among our little circle here!

Nyamera, I've read your trip reports and know you would absolutely love Elephant Bedroom. The unfortunate thing is the price. If we're ever able to go back to Kenya I would love to stay there again, but I'm not sure we could afford it! We're still thanking our lucky stars that Intrepids overbooked and we got that upgrade. I just wish there were more camps that were like Elephant Bedroom, but without the luxury furnishings and huge tents and giant price tags. Scaled down a bit to be more affordable, but not quite as scaled-down as, say, a pup tent.

Merry Christmas, everybody! Here comes the next installment...

MyDogKyle

PART 6 – “A Mechanic in Isiolo and a Little Bit of Joy” (Sept. 27th, 2007)

Last night the wind howled so fiercely it shook our tent and made the canvas flaps billow inward, showing eerie glimpses of the black night outside. I kept listening for elephants but they didn’t return. And I had a hard time sleeping, just feeling very uneasy for some reason. In the morning on the path outside out tent, we found some large cat tracks crisscrossed with smaller tracks that might have been a genet. Those bigger tracks were lion, James said when we showed him a picture later. So maybe that’s why I couldn’t sleep! Perhaps there’s some sense that wakes up in the dark recesses of your brain when a big predator is around.

After another delicious breakfast attended by six or seven superb starlings, it was time to say goodbye to Elephant Bedroom and its wonderful staff. We were especially fond of Alex, a soft-spoken guy who introduced each meal by saying, “I would like to tell you, please, about the special treats for today…” Everyone here was so kind and the camp was like a paradise – enough so that we worried all our other lodgings might be a letdown! While we were loading up the ice cream bus I asked the camp manager if anyone else would be arriving that day, since the four of us who’d stayed the previous night were all on our way out. “Oh yes,” she said. “If not, we would not let you go!” I hope that this camp is very successful, and that many more people are able to enjoy their hospitality and beautiful setting.

So, from paradise back into purgatory. We headed out of the park and braced ourselves for the rough road south to the Equator. At the park gate we picked up a local guy named Peter who needed a ride to Isiolo. James asked us if we minded, and we were happy to give him a lift. He was very friendly and spoke better English than we did Swahili, so we were able to have a conversation of sorts despite that noise and bounce of the road. As it turned out, he was coming all the way from Baragoi in the north, which is much, much farther than we’ve traveled so far! We shared our water with him and gave him a few bottles for his trip, marveling that he was bundled up in a sweater while we were sweating it out in t-shirts and shorts. Not far from Archer’s Post, we passed a little boy with a herd of goats who held up a tiny black kitten and waved to us as we drove past. We saw him, and the Samburu houses set back from the road, and the wide open stretch of scrubland, through a haze of grey dust that filtered into the interior of the minibus and surrounded us outside like fog.

Somewhere between Archer’s Post and Isiolo, we heard a loud CLUNK! and the ice cream bus began to make a horrible rattling noise. Oh no. We’d heard many stories of flat tires and mechanical problems on these wretched Kenyan roads, but of course we’d been secretly hoping that we would be among the lucky ones who managed to avoid that kind of trouble. James kept assuring us that it was nothing, “no big deal,” but Peter looked grim. James began driving much slower and the sound kept grinding away, and all I could think was, “Well, he’s trying not to alarm the tourists, but I sure hope he stops soon!”

We rattled on into Isiolo, dropped Peter off and said goodbye, and then pulled into a service station where James could talk to a mechanic. The mechanic jumped into the passenger seat and we drove around town for a bit, waiting for the minibus to start making that awful racket again. But nothing happened. “Of course,” James said, “It never does the same when the mechanic is here!” The mechanic just shrugged and hopped out of the car. James headed down a dusty side street to another auto shop, this one little more than a dirt lot with some guys standing around, looking bored. Everyone gathered around the ice cream bus and conferred with James, who was starting to lose his customary cool by now and looking just the slightest bit stressed out. While the guys were working on the bus, we just hung out with the side door open, trying to catch a breeze. A boy came by with a wheelbarrow full of long sugarcane stalks, and James asked if we’d like some. We watched the boy hack away at the green of the stalks with a machete, expertly stripping whittling them down to their pulpy white centers so we could chew on them and suck out the sweet juice. So delicious! I can tell you, if you’re stranded with car problems in Isiolo on a hot day, there is nothing better than the refreshing taste of sugarcane. Incredibly, the bus was repaired in less than half an hour. (We still have no idea what was wrong with it, but I’m happy to say it didn’t give us a lick of trouble the rest of the trip.) The mechanics waved to us as we drove off toward the main road, happy to be on our way again.

We crossed over the Equator again on our way to Sweetwaters Private Reserve, a cattle-ranch-turned-game-park in central Kenya. Sweetwaters had a very different character from Samburu, and we could feel that difference the moment we arrived. The main lodge which houses the bar and dining room was a colonial farmhouse style building, and beyond was a long line of green canvas tents surrounded by colorful landscaping, neat paths, and trim lawn. The front row of tents (including ours) faced a very active waterhole, separated from the lodge by an electric fence that was well obscured in a ditch. We could sit out in front of our tent and have the illusion that there was nothing between us and the waterhole, watching the animal activity and letting them watch us back. All the usual suspects came by while we were here: waterbucks, warthogs, impalas, giraffes, zebras, and all the accompanying friendly birds. We saw dozens of superb starlings flitting over the lawn near the tents. A pair of marabou storks even walked right up to the dining room’s sliding glass doors during lunch, looking for handouts (which, fortunately, they did not get).

Overall, we really enjoyed Sweetwaters, even though it felt like a much tamer experience than we’d had in Samburu. (Hey, come on, we even checked our e-mail here and went online to read the San Francisco Chronicle’s website and see what was going on at home. And it’s certainly a much bigger lodge than Elephant Bedroom.) But the waterhole was particularly cool at night, with giraffes and zebras moving about in the ghostly moonlight, and the morning view of Mt. Kenya from out tent was lovely.

We went on an afternoon game drive that first day, and James showed us some of the diverse landscape of the reserve, which was much larger than I’d imagined it would be. We drove through woodland and marsh areas, and long stretches of wide-open grassland. One of the highlights for today was visiting the chimp sanctuary, where a group of rescued chimpanzees have been relocated from their original home in Burundi. If you visit here, be sure to take some time to read about the individual chimps’ stories; most were rescued from abusive captive environments, and it’s heartbreaking to imagine what they’ve been through. We were able to watch a number of them hanging out on their island—some up in the trees, others taunting a river otter who swam past, and still others just quietly grooming each other or napping. The most entertaining chimp was a hyperactive little baby named Joy, who had been born in the sanctuary despite the keepers’ best efforts to provide birth control. She was named for the joy that she brought to all the adult chimps when she was born, and we could see how indulgent they were with her. We had a ball watching her scamper around the island, building a branch-and-grass lean-to up on a lookout rock, and then swiping fruit from the adults to take up into her “treehouse.”

We saw so many other animals and birds as we continued through the park: saddlebill stork chicks, a huge impala bachelor herd, Burchell’s zebras, buffalos, and more and more elephants (including another mock-charge from a mother escorting her small baby across the road in front of us). Then James turned the bus down a small track that had a sign beside it: “Private—No Admittance.” We wondered what on earth he was doing… until he screeched to a stop behind another minibus and whispered, “What do you see?” There, half-hidden in the greenery, was a large group of lionesses and cubs! There were at least 14 or 15 lions, the mothers stretched out and half-asleep, and the young ones wrestling and playing in little piles. It was impossible in some cases to make out where one lion ended and the next began, just piles of tawny fur, sleepy heads, tails and paws.

Onward to the grassy plains, and we had another surprise—in the distance, a black rhino! (This was the 5th of our Big 5.) We were thrilled to watch him just standing there looking majestic, swinging his massive head back and forth and scattering the panicked zebras walking by (a mixed group of Grevy’s and Burchell’s, which was neat to see). I had to use my longest camera lens to get a shot of him, but no matter—with our binoculars, we could see the pointed lip that marked him as a black rhino, and we were so excited to see him at all. On the way back to the lodge, as the afternoon light was quickly fading, we stopped in to visit Sweetwaters’ tame rhino, Morani (and his warthog companion, Caroline). It was fun to see a rhino up close and pet his rough skin, especially after just seeing his wild cousin. But Morani was not interested in us at all. He kept wandering away, and his keeper would go into a flurry of panic, crying, “Morani! Morani, no! Morani! Get back here!” We finally bribed him with a bit of sugarcane, and he agreed to pose for a few pictures. We also got a pretty funny video, thanks to the rhino keeper—he took our video camera in one hand and our still camera in the other, and blasted off dozens of photos while simultaneously filming and giving us a rapid-fire version of Morani’s life story. Every now and then the camera would lurch off to one side or go out of focus, or Caroline would scamper by in the background, and all the while the keeper kept firing off facts about Morani with the speed of an auctioneer. We noticed that not many people tipped Morani’s keepers, but we were prepared to do that after reading that suggestion on this chart board, and I’m glad we did. This guy was obviously trying really hard to do his best for us, and fit it all in before dark. On our way back to camp in the near-darkness, we spotted one more new animal—a massive and elegant eland.

Dinner tonight was our first chance to try some actual African food, a delicious roasted nut casserole and a bean mixture called (I think) ghiteri. Both were delicious. Even though Sweetwaters does not have the most atmospheric and intimate dining room (it’s mostly large tour groups at long tables, and could get really loud), I have to give them kudos for actually including some local dishes. At 9pm we bundled up for our first night game drive. A few thoughts about this: First, the spotter and guide from the lodge made us really appreciate James’ skill and subtlety, as they seemed to just rush from one sighting to the next. Worse, the driver tried several times to get a reaction out of the animals by driving the Land Rover right toward them (or their babies)! He did this more than once, with both elephants and a mixed group of giraffes and zebras. Secondly, although the people sharing our vehicle were generally nice guys, they could not stop talking about their disappointment at not seeing lions on the hunt, and it got very annoying after a while. For example, when we encountered a mother elephant with a newborn baby who was just learning to walk, these guys whined, “This is boring! Show us the LIONS!” and later, as we watched some giraffes only a few feet away from the road, one guy kept grumbling, “Aw, it’s just lion food! Move on!” So, these things made us really appreciate having our own vehicle and driver during the day. Anyway, there was certainly no reason to complain about the wildlife we saw tonight: more elephants in addition to the mom and newborn, a hyena loping up the road, dozens of hares hopping this way and that, both varieties of zebras, Thomson’s gazelles by the dozens, a group of giraffes sleeping, another running across the road right in front of us, and a pair of giraffes courting. We returned to our tent and found hot water bottles in our toasty warm bed. We fell asleep so happy to have experienced the thrill of being out in the African night with the starts overhead and the wind in our faces and the night sounds all around in the darkness. Predators? Well, it would have been nice, but they’re not the only show in town!

MyDogKyle

For some reason, I edited that last post but the changes didn't take. Obviously, that was meant to be "African stars" (not "starts&quot!

And to be fair to James... he didn't actually "screech" to a stop near those lions, but we came around a corner and there was another bus parked near them, so we had to stop quite suddenly!

Nyamera

Do write a novel about people on safari!