Great giraffes and you got sun in Arusha NP--lucky!

Arusha did look like what you'd picture for Eden. Eden with giraffes. Your description of Arusha would make your Tanzanian guide happy if he was looking to promote the country.

Python sunning on a rock--lucky.

The exchange between the guy going to jail and his companion interrupted by the mountain climbers is something out of a movie.

We do canoe trips in British Columbia, so we are looking forward to canoeing in Arusha Park. I was happy to see in your picture that a guide will be with us in the canoe, as I wouldn't want an encounter with a hippo.

Enjoyed your trip report. Loved the pictures. Thanks for the advice about the homemade bean bags-you saved me money. Was it cold enough for you to need the fleece gloves and hat? We are going this August which I understand to be winter in Africa. I'm confused about what to pack for the cold. We have fleece jackets , long sleeve shirts, and the convertible pants. Now we'll pack gloves and warm hats inside our beanbags!! Can you think of anything else we should pack for the cooler mornings and nights? Also after reading your report I went out and bought myself a journal. I know my wriring won't be anywhere near as entertaing as yours was but I'm going to give it a try. You should think about writing an article similar to your trip report and submit it to some travel magazines-it's that good or maybe even better than others I've read. Again thanks for such a fantastic insightinto you and your husband'd African experience.

coldenchris,

Thanks for your nice feedback! I'm so glad you're enjoying my report. This trip meant so much to me and the group of people on this board helped me so much in planning and getting ready for it, so I am thrilled to get to share some stories with you guys.

To answer your question about warm clothing, yes we did use the hats and fleece several times for early morning cold (especially at Mt. Kenya, Sweetwaters, and the Ngorongoro Crater). We never needed the gloves. (The fleece hats also came in handy for helping our driver wipe condensation off the misty car windows while driving to the Crater!) As a general rule, I always take a fleece pullover and a set of thermals (top and bottoms) no matter where I'm going, because they are small and light and you just don't know what the weather will do. The ones I have are made of that "Coolmax" fabric, so they really don't add much to the weight of the luggage and they fit easily underneath other clothes. In a pinch, I could wear the thermals, a t-shirt, a long-sleeve and then my fleece over that and be really warm. Just bring things that you can layer, because even if it's cold in the morning you'll probably be peeling those layers off as the day goes on.

I'm so glad you decided to keep a journal! You'll be glad you did. We were really happy to have a little notebook for jotting down things during the day (animal sightings, quotes from our guide, signs we saw along the way, people's names), because we had very little downtime on this trip and it was easy to fall behind in my journaling. That way I didn't have to worry about trying to remember absolutely everything! Hopefully your journal will inspire a trip report for us when you get home... :)

PART 14 – “Chef’s Surprise!” (Oct. 5th, 2007)

This morning, my husband’s 36th birthday, we had to catch an 8am flight on Air Excel, from Arusha to the Kuro airstrip in Tarangire. Jackson would be picking us up at 7:00, so we’d set the alarm for 5:30am, to have plenty of time for showers, breakfast and last minute packing. I woke to birdsong and a faint filter of light, a little surprised that it was so light already and not yet 5:30, since I hadn’t heard the alarm yet… and when I looked at my watch, it was 6:15! I still have no idea why the alarm didn’t go off (and where were those neighborhood roosters when we needed them?), but there was no time to think about that because we had only 45 minutes to get our act together. (Important lesson learned: always pack your bags up the night before!) I jumped in the shower while my husband ran over to the dining room with a Ziploc bag, to see if we could just get our breakfast fruit to go. After this panicky start to the day, we managed get out of the lodge on time, eating breakfast in the car on the way to the airport. We arrived, checked in, said goodbye to Jackson (we’d be seeing him again in a few days), and then sat around for more than an hour waiting for our plane to arrive. No surprise, it was late. After reading all the cautions on this board about the strict weight limits on luggage for the little bush planes, we’d gone to a lot of trouble to reorganize our duffels and daypacks—putting small, heavy items like our zoom lens and flashlight and electronic things in our pockets and wearing our heaviest clothes. As it turned out, they only weighed our duffel bags, not our daypacks, so we were well under the 33lb limit and didn’t need to worry after all. While we waited for our little plane to arrive, we emptied our pockets and reorganized again, feeling a little silly for all the fuss. (Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t try to pack light… when we weighed everything at home, duffels and daypacks with all our camera gear and donations for the kids at the RVCV, we still came in around 35lb per person, and that wasn’t too hard to do. But we’d picked up some wood carvings and a soapstone rhino along the way in Kenya, so we’d been worried that we would be a few more pounds over.)

We ended up being the only people on the little plane, sitting right behind the pilot, where we had an excellent view of the control panel. No big production like we’re used to on flights, just a few quick words about wearing our seatbelts and we were off. Too bad flying isn’t always like this! Arusha looked so beautiful from the air, with its long rows of purple jacarandas alongside orderly coffee fields, all those shades of green like a patchwork quilt below us. It would be a while before we saw so much green again—the landscape changed rapidly beneath us, giving way to more arid farmlands and then to scrub dotted with the little circles of Maasai bomas, and finally nothing beneath us but clouds. As we began to descend into Tarangire we saw the crooked, meandering outline of a river, the massive “upside down” figures of baobab trees, and then black-and-white dots of zebras and the distinctive outlines of elephants at a waterhole. It was a treat to see these things from the air, and really whetted our appetite for what we might find here.

Our guide from Oliver’s Camp, Arthur, was waiting for us by the airstrip with a huge, funky old Land Rover: all open on the sides with three rows of seats that got higher in the back like stadium seating, a real monster of a vehicle. The Kuro landing strip was even smaller and more remote than the one we’d been to in the Mara, just a long stretch of dark red earth with a little ranger’s shack nearby and no lodges or other vehicles as far as the eye could see. I already could tell I was going to love this place! And my concerns about changing guides yet again was quickly alleviated. The camp has a great team of guides who really know this neck of the woods, and since we were flying in and staying there on an all-inclusive basis it wouldn’t have made any sense to bring our own guide. But after having two terrific guides so far, I wondered if our luck would hold.
Well, Arthur was great, and we liked him right away: a big, jovial guy with a great sense of humor, quick to laugh (and pull your leg), and a fountain of knowledge about all things Tarangire. We weren’t sure at first exactly how things worked at the camp, but as it turned out we would have Arthur and the monster Land Rover all to ourselves for the next two days, which was wonderful. (Maybe when the camp is full people have to share guides and vehicles, but during our stay each tent got their own.)

Our drive to camp was also a game drive; we were immediately greeted by zebras, wildebeest, a group of waterbucks and a pretty speckled hornbill. And by tse tse flies, those nasty little devils with the sharp bite. They turned out not to be as big a problem as I’d anticipated, especially considering we had an open vehicle, but they’re still pretty unpleasant. And all those warnings you hear about not wearing blue? Believe it! We saw some big blue fabric panels hanging in the trees near a ranger outpost and asked Arthur what they were. “Those mark the places where someone has been killed by an elephant,” he said somberly, and then busted out laughing. “No, no, they’re actually tse tse fly traps.” (The next morning on our walking safari our guide was wearing a dark blue fleece shirt, and his back was just crawling with tse tses. So, don’t pack your dark colors for Tarangire.)

We were really amazed by the size of the termite mounds here—impressive even by African standards. Some were shaped like sandcastles, others like tall cones growing straight up or leaning over at wacky angles, taller than a person (or, in my case, two people). Arthur told us about the incredible elaborate “cities” that termites have going on in there, all the various chambers for workers and nymphs and the queen, and even areas where the termites cultivate mushrooms in the dark!

Another thing that really struck us about Tarangire on this first drive was the abundance and variety of birds. We’d seen a lot of beautiful birds on this trip, but this place really took the cake for diversity—every time we turned around, there was another bird, many of which we’d never seen before. (One of the things I did on this trip—and was really happy about later—was keep a comprehensive animal and bird list for each park we visited. It was a fun little appendix to my journal. Tarangire ended up being one of the longest lists.) In about five minutes we saw in quick succession: red-necked spur fowl, two giant hammerkop nests (but no birds, darn it), a von den decken’s hornbill, Egyptian geese, a white-browed coucal, ring-necked doves, blacksmith plovers, superb starlings, a buffalo weaver (the first we’d seen of the Small 5), and dozens of birds Arthur called LBJs—“little brown jobs.” The area we were in doesn’t have the huge baobabs, but we saw plenty of other beautiful trees, including many varieties of palms, euphorbia (“candelabra”) trees, acacias, and sausage trees festooned with their heavy fruit.

After passing a herd of impalas, Arthur found us our second of the Small 5, or at least evidence of them—the perfectly round little pits in the red earth that mark the dens of ant lions. I really had not expected to see any of the Small 5, and here we’d found two already! We joked with Arthur that since we’d seen all of the Big 5 early on in our trip, it was his job to find us all of the Small 5 here. Arthur groaned dramatically and pretended he was going to faint, crying, “But that is a MUCH harder job! Your Kenyan guide had it easy!”

As we approached the neon green swath of the Silale Swamp, we could hardly believe our eyes: in the midst of all that dry, orange earth and scrubby vegetation was a broad stroke of green as vibrant as a rice paddy. I asked Arthur what it was, and he told us, “That’s the part where they irrigate.” I almost believed him for a second, because it looked as unreal as a farmer’s field in a desert. But of course he quickly laughed and told us the truth. The Silale Swamp was one of the most scenic landscapes we saw on our entire trip, that beautiful field of green like a mirage, with a single purple mountain rising behind it and—when we looked more closely—dark humps of elephants with bright white specks of birds riding on their backs, so deep in the swamp you could only see the very tops of them, like the bumps of the Loch Ness monster. So many other animals nearby too, drawn to the water and the rich grazing: impala, steenbok, waterbuck, and hundred and hundreds of birds, including black-shouldered kites, egrets, hadada ibis and open-billed storks. One of our absolute favorite bird sightings occurred here. We saw two secretary birds strutting across the road, their sharp black and white markings bright against the orange earth. Arthur started pointing out all the ways they resembled “secretaries”—the pens tucked behind their ears, their short black miniskirts, and their habit of rapidly “typing” on the ground with their feet to stir up tasty insects. Right as he was saying this, one of them was kind enough to demonstrate her fast and furious typing skills! We also saw three huge, black southern ground hornbills racing alongside the road and then spreading their impressive wings to skim a few feet off the ground in flight.

But, who am I kidding here? The main event at the swamp was really the elephants, as we would discover over the next two days. At this first visit, there were two groups of them present, including a very large herd that was closer to shore and not totally submerged in the swamp. Starlings and egrets perched on their backs while the ellies used their trunks to rip up long, wet strands of grass and then whipped and thrashed them around to shake the soil off the roots before tucking it carefully into their mouths. They managed to be both comically animated and entirely graceful at the same time. Tarangire is really one of the best places to watch elephants in East Africa, but the elephants here are more wary and less tolerant of people than their cousins up in the Masai Mara. Arthur was always careful to keep a respectful distance between us and them, and to try to maintain an escape route. He told us he didn’t like to turn off the engine too close to a group of elephants, because Tarangire mama elephants didn’t hesitate to charge Land Rovers if they weren’t happy (and this time he didn’t seem to be joking). There were a LOT of mama elephants here, that’s for sure—we saw more baby elephants here than in all the other parks combined. And they were keeping a sharp eye on us as they went about their business.

Other lovely sights on this drive: an elegant fish eagle, stocky little warthogs with tails high in the air, a gigantic bateleur eagle, African jacanas and a flitty little lilac-breasted roller, a reedbuck doe and buck at the edge of the swamp (him short and stocky with impish little horns, her tall and willowy and blond).

And then, the Land Rover died. At first I thought maybe Arthur had pulled another joke on us, but no. He’d stopped the car to watch the reedbucks, and it simply wouldn’t start again. After a few tries he looked back at me and asked, “Do you know how to drive with a stick shift?” Wow, that was one of the most nerve-wracking things I’ve had to do in a long time. I felt so tiny behind the wheel of that monster vehicle, and the clutch was so stiff it took all the strength in my wimpy leg to just push it in! Arthur and my husband were in back, pushing the beast forward while I popped the clutch, and after a few tries we got it going. Fortunately there were no mama elephants or hungry lions nearby… As I happily relinquished the driver’s seat, Arthur hopped back in and said, “Now you can be a safari guide. You know how to spot animals, and you can start a dead Land Rover!” For the rest of the drive to Oliver’s Camp, he didn’t shut the engine off again. But even in that short drive there was so much to see—yellow-collared lovebirds, wildies, zebras & hartebeests in a huge herd, and then a pair of bateleur eagles in flight, doing flips in the sky high above our heads.

By the time we arrived at camp it was only lunch time, but we felt like it could have been enough excitement to fill an entire day. We had high hopes for this particular camp (it was the big splurge of our trip, after all), and Oliver’s did not disappoint us. As much as we liked the other lodges we’d stayed at since, both of us had been pining a bit for Elephant Bedroom in Samburu. Oliver’s was another wonderful tented camp that captured that same feeling of being well and truly out in the bush. It doesn’t hit you over the head with wow-factor architecture or a waterhole or a gorgeous location. Instead, it’s more subtle than that—a place that really feels remote and wild, that gives you the sensation you might be at the only camp in Africa. There is a main dining tent and campfire circle, and the individual sleeping tents are set fairly far away from each other, down winding dirt paths surrounded by “adrenaline” grass (so tall we could hardly see over it, so it was like walking through a tunnel). My favorite part of the whole camp was the library tent, where we could relax on worn, comfy leather chairs or stretch out on a sofa and read from the small library of books (or in my case, desperately try to catch up on my journal). Everything was decorated with animal skulls, tortoise shells, old sepia-tone photos. The camp was elegant in it simplicity, and in the way everything looked well-used and broken in and authentic. Nothing new and shiny, nothing to distract you from what you saw when you looked out the open sides of the common area tents—just the landscape and the sky. I immediately felt at home here.

Our tent was beautiful, too. It had a writing desk, a very comfy bed, and a fabric screen to conceal a little changing area and the door to the attached open-air bathroom. It’s silly to gush about a bathroom, I know, but this was really the perfect safari bathroom! It had round walls and no roof, so it was open to the blue sky and the stars, with a bucket sink and shower and a composting toilet. I’m sure some people might think this was too rustic, but it was so beautifully designed and so much less intrusive than trying to put plumbing in a place like this. There is no running water at Oliver’s, and only solar electricity to power tiny lamps for the tents at night—candlelight and oil lamps are everywhere else in camp. But we didn’t miss the modern conveniences at all, because Oliver’s finds a way to immerse you in the bush and spoil you all at once, and it was everything I’d dreamed a safari camp would be. We were surprised to discover that only five people were staying in the camp, so that added to the atmosphere as well.

After a delicious lunch with Arthur, we set off again on another game drive. A mechanic had repaired the Land Rover for us while we ate, and now it was running just fine. We had equally good luck with sightings this afternoon, including lots of birds, eagles, so many zebras (they looked gorgeous standing in sharp relief against the red earth), and mixed herds of hartebeest and wildebeest, part of Tarangire’s own little migration. But, like this morning, the elephants at the swamp stole the show. We discovered a group of more than 50 elephants hanging out, grazing and wading into the swamp, and tending their babies. As we watched more and more elephants began to appear, families in long lines coming out of the woods, crossing the road and coming down to join the others at the edge of the swamp. It was an incredible sight. Each new group that arrived would be greeted by the others with a flurry of trumpeting, spinning in circles, urinating, squealing, and constantly touching and stroking one another with their trunks. Some of the elephants even grasped and shook trunks like people shake hands, and others gently stroked each other’s faces. It was like watching a joyous reunion of long-lost friends.

There was big excitement at one point when two young bulls got into a fight. It started out playful enough, but then things quickly got out of hand with all the pushing and shoving and charging. We could see a very small baby nearby starting to cringe and look frightened. “That’s the kind of behavior that gets them kicked out of the herd,” Arthur said. And as though she had heard him, the mother of the scared little baby suddenly had had enough—she charged in between the young boys, swinging her head from side to side, and broke up the fight.

We finally had to say goodbye to these wonderful animals and head back for dinner, but we took a long loop through the woods on the way and were lucky enough to spot a mongoose picking over the carcass of a zebra that had been left behind by lions a few days ago. One of the great things about having a guide who lived at camp is that he knew so much about the local animals and what they’d been up to. Apparently this same lion pride had also killed a zebra right outside camp the night before we arrived. More animals on the way home as the light was fading: a lone Masai giraffe, a black-bellied bustard, a tawny eagle, and an owl keeping watch over the road back to camp.

Evenings at Oliver’s followed a very relaxing routine, as we discovered tonight. Our arrival back at camp was at dusk, so several of the guys walked with us through the dim, rustling grass back to our tent. A few minutes later, someone arrived with buckets of water heated over a fire, and called out, “Are you ready for your shower?” What a wonderful treat to take a shower under that canopy of stars and wash off the dust of the day! In clean clothes and feeling completely refreshed, we walked with the guys back to the dining tent, where we all gathered around the campfire for sundowners and what Arthur called “bush TV” – drinks and snacks, chatting with the other guests, and stories from the guides while watching the dancing flames. Tonight we tried a different local beer, the aptly named Safari, which remains our favorite East African beer (sorry, Tusker).

Dinner tonight was a scrumptious barbeque with so many types of meat and veggies to choose from, all delicious. For dessert, camp manager Richard announced that we’d be having the “chef’s surprise.” One of the things we loved best of all about Oliver’s is that the guides had meals with us, everyone at one big table, and there didn’t seem to be such a separation between the staff and the guests. I imagine that must be tough for them sometimes, to never have a break from the guests! But we really loved it, and how it made us feel like we were visiting someone’s home, not a hotel. This was our first chance to really talk with the other guests—a woman from Kent who was traveling solo in celebration of her 70th birthday (and a veteran of many trips to Africa), and a honeymooning couple from Manchester (who were, like us, on their first safari). There were lots of stories, quite a bit of laughter, and a lengthy discussion about pet dogs (so Kyle continued to play a crucial role in our safari).

In the midst of all the merriment (and copious amounts of wine), suddenly we heard singing. And here came the chef’s surprise—a birthday cake baked from scratch in the bush, blazing with candles, and the entire staff dancing in a conga line singing “Happy Birthday!” (The cake itself actually said HAPPY BITHIDAY.) They went immediately into a chorus of “How Old Are You Now?” and my husband, laughing, answered in his best Swahili, saying what he thought was “36.” (The next day, one of the guys remarked to me, sounding impressed, “Your husband looks so young for 46!”) He also said a few other things in Swahili that elicited whoops of appreciation from the staff: “Thanks, my birthday is very nice. The food is delicious!” They were all impressed by that, and someone asked me if I could speak Swahili as well as he could. I told them I knew one very important sentence: “Choo kiko wapi?” (Where is the bathroom?), which caused the whole tent to erupt in gales of laughter. (Well, I do know a few more Swahili words than that, but I certainly couldn’t remember them in the moment!) Everyone toasted his birthday and wished him many more safaris… and I’m sure that’s what he was wishing too, as he blew out his candles and passed around pieces of cake. I think it’s safe to say this qualifies as his best birthday ever.

We walked tipsily back to our tents in the darkness with our guides by our side. There were rustling sounds everywhere around us, and little dark shapes of mice skittering across the path away from our flashlight beams. I kept looking up at all the stars; it seemed every speck in the universe was visible, the thick streak of the milky way coursing across one corner of the sky. All around us was that incredible mix of silence and sound that I’ve never heard anywhere else. As we drifted in and out of sleep tonight, we heard the pitter patter of little feet across the roof of our tent, the cries of bush babies and, at one point, a sudden rush of large bodies moving through the grass as a group of animals hurried past our tent. In the morning, we found neat little mouse tooth marks nibbled all the way around our soap.

We just returned from a 19 day safari in Kenya and Tanzania. We had a great time and didn't see any signs of the violence. We spent nine days with James from Eastern and Southern Safaries. What a wonderful guy and driver/guide. He was thrilled to receive the booklet you had made and sent to him. He was so proud to show it to us. We told him that we had been reading about your adventures on the internet and he was very curious to find the website to see for himself. His email address is [email protected] if you are interested.

We have enjoyed reading about your experiences and now have experienced much of the same. Thank you for sharing them with us.

Oh, that's terrific! Lucky you to have a safari with James! And what a small world, huh? I'm so glad you had a great time, and I am amazed to think about James showing our photo book to another Fodorite. Hearing that just made my day. :)

Yeah, we owe him a letter and I will definitely send him the link to this report if he wants to read it. I'm really pleased to hear that James and E&S had you as a client, because I know this has been a tough time for them. If I could go back to Kenya with them, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Glad you've enjoyed reading about our trip. It makes all the typing worthwhile. ;)

Arthur sounds like a hoot! Were they spiny mice that ate the soap? Did you ever get a look at them? We had those at Samatian Island and they had covers to go over the soap dish. They were also trapping them (humanely) and moving them back to the mainland.

bfcurson,
Welcome back! Did you end up going to Nakuru/Naivasha or changing your itinerary? Glad your trip went well.

You really had an incredible safari. Now I want to stay at Oliver's and have <i>another</i> 36th birthday. Sounds like a great camp--terrific wildlife, rustic but comfortable and nice people.

Patty, I'm not sure what kind of mice they were, but we saw lots of them -- including one little guy who liked to hang around in the dressing area of our tent (warning to those who don't like that sort of thing!). They were about half the size of my fist, dark brown with lighter bellies, round and chubby rather than long and lean. Really cute. I wish I'd been able to get a picture of one, because I love rodents. But we only saw them in the dark, so never had the camera handy.

Most of the mice we saw were scurrying around on the trails at night, so for those of you who find this yucky, don't worry. We never saw them in the dining area or other common tents, and just the one little guy in our tent (who was probably also the soap-chewer). I'm pretty sure some of the feet we heard going across our roof at night were mouse feet.

A soap cover is a good idea. I can't imagine it was very good for them to eat that.

Did they look like these? http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=...0&amp;y=lc1yhb

The bucket in the second photo is about the size of a 5 gal pail for reference. We thought they were really adorable but I imagine many other guests don't feel the same way ;) We never saw them expect in the bucket traps.

Oh wow, those guys are cute! (not that I'd want them over-running a camp or getting into bed with me, but still...)

The ones we saw didn't seem to have that distinctive fur, so I don't think they were the same. But thanks for the picture!

I guess I'm just going to have to go back to Oliver's and see if he's still there so I can take his portrait. ;)

Patty,
We did not get to see Nakuru or Naivasha. Our itinerary was changed and they flew us from Samburu to Masai Mara. James, our driver/guide, returned to Nairobi.

We met up with another great driver/guide, Wesley Kipkoros, from Bateleur Camp. We spent three days in Masai Mara where we observed a pair of cheetahs stalk, kill, and eat a Thomson's gazelle, two crocodiles attack a zebra that was trying to cross the Mara River, and the most beautiful male lion with a large black mane.

We then flew from Masai Mara to Nairobi where we met up with James and drove to Amboseli. We saw lots of animals there, but the highlight of the area was seeing Mt. Kilimanjaro. What a sight to see.

From Amboseli we drove through a lava flow to Tsavo. There we had the priviledge of seeing kudos. James said that they are very rare to see and that it was a dream come true.

From Tsavo we drove back to Nairobi and caught our flight home.

It was dishearting to see the tourism being so low. Most of the places we stayed in Kenya were no more that 10% full. The meals that were normally served buffet style were served at our table. We were told that many of the staff were working for half pay and that several of the help had been sent home. We also noticed that the Maasai people were quite visable at park entrances, begging visitors to come to their villages. They, too, seemed to be affected by the drop in tourism. We couldn't have asked for a more gracious and warm welcome from everyone at the parks, lodges, and preserves. I perceive that this is their normal persona, not due to the political situation.

I feel compelled to mention our driver/guide in Tanzania also, Godwin Makundi from Leopard tours. I don't know if all these guys are good or if we were just blessed with some exceptional guides. They all were very warm and personable people. Each one of them showed a natural love and respect for the animals and environment in which they lived. All were very sensitive to the customs of the locals and tribal people we encountered. We never once felt like any of our game drives were cut short. They all worked very hard at exposing us to as much of Africa as we could see. To them we are eternally grateful. With their able assistance/identification skills, our final checklists included 52 plus species of mammals, 112 plus species of birds and 12 reptiles. The challenge now is sorting/selecting the best photos from 4500 plus shots! They have given us memories that we shall cherish the rest of our lives.

Thanks for the update, bfcurson. Looking forward to your photos!

Sorry for the hijack, MDK!

No worries. I'm happy to hear about another safari with James!

But it would probably be good for you to post this info about your trip on a separate thread too, bfcurson -- just in case someone is looking for posts about more recent trips to Kenya (since my header says Sept/Oct '07).

PART 15 – “A Walk in the Park” (Oct. 6th, 2007)

This morning our 6am wake-up call for our 6:30 walking safari came at exactly 6:30, so we missed out on the hot water and tea brought to our tent. Fortunately we’d set our own alarm (which worked this time!) and were already awake, so we made it over to the dining tent just in time to meet with our guide Alex, a young ranger named Dawa who looked even younger because of the rifle in his arms, and Ann, the only other guest staying at camp with us today. We drove a short distance then headed on foot down into a dry riverbed, following a scattered trail of dry elephant dung.

It’s been said dozens of times on this board, but it’s worth saying again -- walking here was a completely different thing than seeing the landscape from a vehicle, and I whole-heartedly recommend that everyone try to do this at least once on their safari. It’s a bit more intense (and sometimes nerve-wracking), for one thing; even though you know that the majority of animals are so wary of humans that they’d much rather run away than attack you, there is still that little rush of fear about what could happen. I was thrilled to get my feet on the ground and stretch my legs after weeks in a vehicle. But I was also hoping, honestly, that we wouldn’t run into any big predators at too close a range, or walk around a bend in the river and surprise a bunch of elephants with little babies. Partly because I’m a bit of a chicken, but mostly because I really wanted to be as invisible as possible to the animals and not disrupt their world too much. I wanted to be able to watch them and see what they did on their own terms – not what they did in response to me.

The thing about walking safaris is, if you are lucky enough to see some animals, they generally run away as fast as they can! A human on foot is a terrifying sight (or smell or sound). So what we really focused on were the amazing layers of life here, and the tiny details of nature that you can only experience at ground level. We learned a lot about trees—how the huge, heavy fruit of the sausage tree can break a small animal’s back when it falls… that there is such a thing as a “sandpaper” tree… that certain trees are better places to hide from elephants than others, thanks to their dense, protective mesh of low-slung branches. We also saw all the little signs that animals leave behind: tracks (Alex showed us how to tell, by the dent of the toe, which direction an elephant was walking), dung, bleached white bones, a puff adder’s skin. We found a place where dik-diks had been, leaving tiny black beads from their preorbital glands on low-growing twigs, and little middens of manure (definitely not big enough to bury a baby elephant, if you’ve heard that story!).

As we walked farther along the riverbed Alex spotted a hyena drinking out of a well dug by elephants, but it darted quickly away. We approached the well to check it out—an impressive, deep pit dug into the dark orange earth, with tracks scattered all around its edges. After we headed away from the riverbed, Alex climbed up on a tall termite mound to have a look around, and then we headed off across a desolate, open plain that was still charred black from a recent fire. We neared some trees and saw more animal activity: hastily-retreating zebras, a giraffe, and impalas. Then I saw a flash of a grey body and tall, tall horns. I pointed and whispered, “I think that’s an oryx!” And it was—two of them, actually, so beautiful and so much more massive when seen from the ground. They noticed us and bolted off in the other direction, but I was thrilled to see them this way, and to see them in a full gallop. (This was my personal best for being the first one to spot an animal. My husband’s best sighting-before-the-guide would come a few days later.) Alex also found the third of our Little 5, a leopard tortoise. He was happy to see that pretty little fellow, since we were still in the burn area and tortoises often don’t escape when fire sweeps through their territory.

The final surprise of our walk was encountering a lone bull elephant. He was a short distance away, but since we were in such an open area we had a terrific view of him and were able to watch him for a long time. Alex kept trying to move us a little closer, but we’d see the elephant’s trunk go up like a periscope, swiveling around until he could sniff us out, and then he’d casually stroll off in the opposite direction, maintaining his distance. He didn’t seem bothered by us, but he definitely knew we were there.

Walking back toward the Land Rover, we all laughed about how absolutely filthy our pants were from the combination of red earth and charred, ashy branches brushing against our legs. We had to take pictures to document the “after” of a walking safari. Back at camp we were going to try to clean them up ourselves, but the camp manager insisted that we had them over. We really felt certain those pants would never come clean, but later that evening when we returned to the tent the pants were spotless and neatly folded on our bed. These guys really can work miracles out here in the middle of nowhere!

After breakfast we set out with Arthur on another game drive. The bateleurs were at it again, flying in looping, tumbling swoops overhead. Just a few minutes outside of camp, Arthur spotted some fresh lion tracks in the soft dirt. They followed the road for a bit and then turned off into the tall grass, where we couldn’t follow. So for all we know, the lions who’d strolled past our camp earlier that morning (maybe while we were out walking in the other direction) were still just a few yards away, snoozing deep inside the adrenaline grass. But we never saw them. We did see a lot of other critters, though—zebras and hartebeest and wildies and Grant’s gazelles, warthogs, a majestic crested eagle, a family of dik-diks, and the ubiquitous Tarangire elephants. If it sounds like more of the same, I assure you it wasn’t, because every time you see these creatures they are doing something different. I never tired of it. We passed a completely segregated group of wildebeest and zebras, each on a different side of the road—Arthur called this configuration “football teams.” He said, “Zebras kick better, and wildebeests like to head-butt the ball. The zebras almost always win.”

One of the most picturesque sights we saw this morning was a male ostrich standing beside an acacia tree on a wide, flat plain, with the purple peak of a mountain rising behind him the distance. It’s almost absurd how often we’ve seen such postcard-worthy sights just driving around like this. Another fun sighting was watching the scurrying antics of a tiny dwarf mongoose, who had one of the cutest little faces in Africa. He was hilarious to watch as he dug up insects at a frantic pace, his fur almost as orange-red as the dirt around him. We stayed with him for a quite a while. I count mongooses as one of the nice surprises of this trip, an animal that I hadn’t thought much about before we came here, but enjoyed watching so much.

There were lots of nice little surprises like that for us in Tarangire, and of course those glorious elephants, but the cats were not so cooperative. Despite seeing lots of tracks and the remains of multiple kills, we never saw any lions or leopards here. Arthur apologized several times for this (as though it was his fault?), but we assured him we didn’t mind. We were enjoying such incredible diversity here, from tiny animals to enormous ones, and so many beautiful birds, to boot. “Oh, look!” Arthur said at one point, indicating a huge herd in the distance surrounded by a cloud of dust. “Very rare,” he chuckled. “The Tarangire Red Elephant!”

We returned to camp for lunch and a few lazy hours of downtime in the library tent, where I looked through some bird books (oh no! I’m becoming a twitcher!) and worked on my journal while my husband snoozed on the couch. One of the guys came by with a pot of coffee and hot water for chai, and then the camp manager Richard stopped by for a chat. It was fun and enlightening to talk with him about what it’s like for these guys to live and work in the bush. If there’s anything at all disappointing about being on safari, it’s that you never have enough time for everything you’d like to do—game drives and hanging out at camp, reading, writing, napping (necessary after staying awake all night to listen to the chorus of animal sounds), campfire stories and meals, talking with new friends. We could already understand why people become safari addicts, because it’s not like any other travel adventure we’ve ever had. Hanging out at camp this afternoon with the library tent’s sides open to the view of the bush and a collection of animal skulls watching over us, I felt as much “on safari” as I did while bouncing around in the Land Rover.

On our afternoon game drive, Arthur asked if we had any requests, and we said, “A great African sunset!” That was one of the few things that had eluded us on our trip so far. He laughed and said, “I’ll see what I can do.” The first fellow we saw out of camp was a tawny eagle, followed by a lone zebra. The fact that she was separated from her herd gave us pause, so we stayed a bit to see if any predators might be lurked. Nope. A short ways onward we saw what must have been the rest of her herd, with several mares nursing very small foals. Down at the Silale swamp, we had another incredible elephant show. When we arrived, a herd of more than 60 elephants was crossing the road and making their way down to into the swamp, their huge feet making sucking sounds in the deep mud. Some of the smallest babies got stuck in the mud, and their older ones had to help them pull free. More and more elephants arrived, materializing out of the trees in long lines and small bunches, crossing the road in front of us. By the time we had to tear ourselves away and head off to Arthur’s sunset spot, we’d counted well over 100 elephants, with more still coming in a steady stream.

We saw two more impressive herds on the way toward the other side of the swamp. The first was a large group of wildebeest, who startled and bolted at the sight of a tawny creature who came slowly out of the tall grass, hunched down and stalking them from behind… and then turned out to be a little male reedbuck! “He’s pretending to be a lion for you,” Arthur laughed, and we had to agree – the wildies certainly seemed fooled!

The second herd was farther in the distance, so we had to use our binoculars to identify them, but what a sight. It was a group of 30 or 40 banded mongooses, ambling along in a line across the wide-open plain. When they heard our vehicle, they stood up—all these little heads popping up at once—and then they took off running full speed, an undulating mass of furry bodies. It was one of the most hilarious things I’ve ever seen. “The Great Migration,” Arthur narrated, trying to keep a straight face.

He drove us to a hillside with a wide view of the plain and the swamp to await the sunset. And here, not purposely looking for animals at all, we had one of our most magical sightings. Three silver-backed jackal pups popped up out of the grass and approached our Land Rover, completely guileless and fascinated with us, their curiosity stronger than their sense of caution. They came right up to us and looked up into the open car, and we had a good long time to enjoy that most amazing of feelings—looking right into the eyes of a wild creature, and knowing they are looking back. What on earth were they thinking when they saw us? Since we know and love a dog so well at home, it was especially gratifying to have a moment like this with one of his distant relatives. After losing interest in us, one of the pups headed around to the other side of our vehicle, where he tried to watch some crowned plovers and got a severe scolding from the birds. The three pups eventually joined us again to sit in front of us and watch the sunset—a fiery orange glow, the orb of the sun sinking behind the dark wall of the Great Rift Valley in the distance. “Just what you ordered,” Arthur said. With a side order of baby jackals.

Our resident owl was our last animal of the night, waiting in his tree to usher us back into camp. And then it was time for another bucket shower and more “bush TV”—Safari beer and munchies and campfire stories about elephant charges and hyenas coming into camp and a Tanzanian game show called “Hot Chair,” followed by another delicious dinner. There were two new guests in camp tonight, a woman from South Africa who’d brought her own guide all the way from home. She told us that one of his duties was to teach her how to use her new camera! (Word to the wise: it’s really worth learning that sort of thing before you leave home.) It was hard to sleep tonight with all the little critters running around on the roof of our tent. But maybe it wasn’t just the critters… maybe it was also knowing that this was our last night at Oliver’s, and tomorrow we’d have to say another goodbye.

MyDogKyle,
Up until now I've missed this thread, and I am so glad I saw it. I’ve only read the Kenya portion, and haven’t yet looked at your photos, but what a magnificent trip report. Your writing style is superb!

What a great way to celebrate your 10th anniversary and your husband’s birthday all in one. I love your description of how difficult it is to put into words your feelings about the overall experience and the impact such a trip has. I know many of us echo your sentiments in this regard.

Your description of the planning process (doing research, planning your itinerary, choosing a TA) and items you found useful on safari will be very helpful to others. Great way to start the report.

I love all the details you’ve included at the start of the report, down to feeling sorry for the woman in the Visa line with people eyeing her suspiciously as if she were a con-artist, the men cooking on the rooftop, and the moment you realized you were “in Africa.” Your descriptions of people and places throughout the report are very insightful.

Your description of your tour of Nairobi, drive through Kikuyu country, and of the Rift Valley are a nice addition to a trip report, most of which focus solely on the wildlife. You describe the beauty of the African landscape, the colors of the country, and the expansiveness of it all so well throughout your report. As I am reading, I feel transported back to this magical place. Thank you.

You had such great luck with the eles at Mountain Lodge. A baby still learning to walk must have been a real treat. Your safari obviously got started off on the right track! Your stay at Elephant Bedroom Camps sounds fantastic. A leopard, elephants right outside your tent illuminated by a full moon, a giraffe fight, and on you way back to camp when you thought your day was over, four lionesses beginning to hunt, all very exciting. You were also very lucky with lions at Sweetwaters. A pride of 14-15 including cubs followed by rhino to round out your big 5 makes for another very productive game drive for you and your husband. I’d say so far you’ve been quite lucky on this trip. You saw a lot of babies, and I particularly enjoyed reading about the Oryx mother teaching her baby to head-butt with the other on the sidelines watching. You also had great luck at Lake Nakuru. I’m glad the rain added to your trip rather than detracting from it. How luck you were with the rhinos. I really enjoyed your description of how even though you think you know what to expect when seeing the flamingos, that until you are there you have no idea how it will affect you. I realize I’m sounding redundant here, but the details in this report are just fabulous.

It’s sad about the minibus wreck and the dead driver, and that both will forever be a part of your memory for this trip. How appropriate, though, that you put it all in perspective and say that the greatest danger on your entire trip is one which you face everyday at home during a commute to work.

I like your description of the hot air balloon. Even if you do see a fair amount of wildlife, it is an odd vantage point from which to see them. I am again transported back in time at your comment about feeling out of place having breakfast in the Mara with wildlife as your spectators. James sounds like a great guide. His humor really started coming through by the time you got to the Mara, didn’t it? You were very fortunate to witness the migration, see four cheetahs, a baby jackal, and a herd of topis. I’ve only seen lone topi on termite mounds, never a herd. It seems you were very lucky everywhere you went.

Thank you for this wonderful report. It truly captures the essence of Africa.

Thanks, Dana! I'm glad you're enjoying it. It is very hard to convey exactly what this trip meant to me, and include everything I want to include. I'm just sorry it's so darn long, and taking me such a long time to get it posted (hopefully I won't still be working on it when we hit the 1-year anniversary of our trip!). I'm closing in on the last few days of our mainland safari, and then need to get to Zanzibar... hopefully I'll get another post or two added this week.

I do hope my story brings back nice memories for people who've been, and maybe helps some others in planning their own trips. This chat board was a godsend for me while we were planning, and it's helping me get my Africa fix now that I'm back home and can't plan another safari right away!

Tarangire photo slideshow:
http://tinyurl.com/2wn8gu

Sweet! I've been waiting for these.

How exciting that your personal best sightinging was on foot.

Your comment about seeing the same animals but seeing them do different things so accurate. It's why every time out is a new adventure.

I'll be checking out the pics next.

PART 16 – “You Are So, So Lucky!” (Oct. 7th, 2007)

This morning’s wake-up call came on time—a soft “Jambo!” accompanied by tea on a tray and fresh hot water in our bucket sink. We finished packing our bags and enjoyed one last meal at Oliver’s. As I gazed out from the dining tent at the golden grass and the wide sky above it, I felt sadness creeping over me. Some of it was, of course, saying goodbye to this wonderful camp and the even more wonderful Arthur. But it was also that I was just now beginning to feel that slide downhill, realizing that we’d turned the corner and were heading into the final leg of our safari.

The staff gathered to see us off and they all waved as Arthur pulled the Land Rover away, heading back toward the Kuro airstrip. I waved back and watched the tents retreating into the distance until—quite soon—they vanished into the grass and were gone. We had a terrific game drive on our way to the airstrip, and all the animals of Tarangire seemed in cahoots to keep us from leaving. First we were stopped by the Tanzanian traffic police (as Arthur called them): two zebras who stood sideways in a perfect barricade across the road. Considering that we were there with the engine running, they stayed much longer than I would expect an average zebra to stand still. After they moved along, we passed some reedbucks and a stately eland standing under a tree. Next, we encountered a complete surprise—a mother serval and her kitten slinking through the tall grass! We were so flabbergasted by this sight, we barely managed to snap a picture before they completely disappeared. But I was glad to have a moment of looking right at the kitten’s little face before he bopped away, and I doubt I could ever have captured that even if my camera was ready. They were well camouflaged in the grass, but as they hurried away we could track their progress by the bright flashes of the white spots on the backs of their ears. So, Tarangire did not keep all of its cats from us, after all—and I would take these little guys over a dozen lions any day!

Of course, we saw a great variety of birds this morning, as on all our Tarangire game drives, including a fish eagle, an adorable little African hoopoe (who quickly became a new favorite with his unique looks and his comical manner), kingfishers and starlings and more rollers. Then our way was blocked again, this time by a mama elephant and her kids. As they moved silently into the dry, skeletal brush by the side of the road, they showed us once again how effortlessly an elephant can become invisible. By now we’d eaten up quite a lot of our travel time, so Arthur started to hurry onward. But we’d only gone a short distance before yet another roadblock stopped us in our tracks. This time it was a big herd of buffalo, cows and calves. They sauntered across the road, taking their time and surrounding us on both sides. Hey, girls, we have a plane to catch! But they were in no hurry, and the babies lifted their noses at us in that charmingly snooty-looking cape buffalo salute.

At last the buffalo moved on and we could drive forward, and that’s when it really started to get silly. A herd of bachelor impalas rushed onto the road and blocked our way. And then the real problem, only a short distance farther—a large herd of elephants crossing slowly in front of us, in what seemed like an endless column. It was the grand finale to our stay in Tarangire, and it made us feel, just a little bit, like maybe the animals wanted us to stay as much as we did.

We did end up making it to the airstrip with a few minutes to spare before our little plane arrived, so fortunately we had time for a proper goodbye with Arthur. Another tourist was standing in the center of the runway as the plane came in, and his guide and a ranger had to run out after him, yelling at him to forget taking a picture and just MOVE OUT OF THE WAY! This time we didn’t have the whole plane to ourselves—it was a full flight, everyone heading on to the Serengeti except us. I watched Tarangire disappear out the window and felt crushingly sad, missing this place (and Kenya too) all at once and so badly that it was like a physical ache. So, even the most wonderful safari is not perfect—there is this part, too. I tried to tell myself that this wasn’t the last time I would see this place. And even if it is, it is now forever a part of my memories and who I am now, so it will never really be that far away.

Jackson met us at the airport at Lake Manyara, this time in a larger and much older, scuffed-up Land Rover. He asked about our adventures in Tarangire as we headed toward the lake, driving down a steep road past baobab trees growing on the side of the dramatic cliff. We stopped at an overlook with a wonderful view of Lake Manyara. The blue-grey water vanished into haze at its far edges, an immense puddle of reflected light at the base of the escarpment’s steep drop-off. In the forest far below, we spied the spindly necks of some giraffes and the little grey bump of an elephant.

It was late morning and roasting hot by the time we entered the park. So, not the best time for a game drive, but we still saw quite a lot. Right away we came across a bull elephant only a few feet from the road. He was in musth, with what Jackson referred to as “GPS” (having to do with a syndrome and something being green… you can figure it out), so we kept very quiet and did our best not to disturb him. This guy offered us another up-close-and-personal moment, where I could tell he was looking right at us and thinking about us, just as we were thinking about him. He didn’t seem bothered to have us there, just kept happily ripping leaves off tree branches. After a few minutes we left him in peace.

This park was really beautiful, with dense forest and natural springs bubbling up from the ground—all that green a nice contrast to the oranges and browns of Tarangire. Another bull elephant was waiting for us farther up the road in a cool shady spot; he willfully ignored us for a while, shuffling his feet and dragging his trunk across the dirt before deciding to head off the road into the forest, where he broke a few trees down while we watched. We saw some bachelor impalas, one with a dramatically broken horn, and as they all turned their rumps toward us Jackson pointed out the perfect black “M” on their rear: “This is why they are called the McDonald’s of the bush,” he said with a laugh. Nearby we saw more giraffes and some very young elephants with no adults in sight. I’m sure they were there hiding in the cover of the trees, keeping a close eye on us.
As we drove out of the forest into a more open area the sun blazed down on us; most of the animals had wisely cleared out to take refuge in the shade. It made me wish we’d had the chance to come here in the early morning or later in the day. We drove through a forest of quinine trees and brush, and here we started to see a bit more activity, including lots of vervet monkeys. One mother had a baby less than a month old clinging to her belly. The monkeys would make their way up inside even the thorniest of trees and poke their little heads out the top to survey the area, outlined against the bright blue sky. We saw more primates near a stream: a busy group of baboons of all sizes and ages, searching the grass and underneath fallen logs for insects. A long, serene Nile monitor was hanging out in the sun. “Just a juvenile,” Jackson said, but you’d never guess from the size of him.

Our last stop was the hippo pool and the wide plain beyond it, and there was plenty of action here. Hundreds (if not thousands) of white pelicans surrounded a pod of hippos who were lolling in the water and mock-fighting with their mouths open wide, showing off those big, blunt teeth. Gathered nearby was a large herd of zebras and wildies, a pair of giraffes bending their necks gracefully down to drink from a stream, warthogs and marabou storks. The noise and smell of the pelican-and-hippo party was intense, but it just added to the scene. How remarkable it is to see all these animals just hanging out together! Too soon it was time to head off to our camp for a late lunch and a chance to rest before our Big Night Out. On our way out of the park we saw blue monkeys in the forest, a harbinger of more good things to come.

We drove back up to the top of the cliff and then out a rough, dusty road to Kirurumu. This was another tented camp, nowhere near as remote and wild as Oliver’s camp, but still nice. It reminded me of Sweetwaters, with large tents on raised platforms with fully-plumbed bathrooms, surrounded by a network of pathways and attractive common areas—a high-roofed, open dining room and a bar with an outdoor patio and a great view. Each tent had an animal’s name: ours was “Lammergeier,” after the eagle. A lot of Maasai work at the camp, and everywhere we looked we saw guys hanging out in their red and blue shukas. Since the guides ate in the dining room here, we invited Jackson to have lunch with us, and we had a lively, interesting conversation about education in Tanzania, the situation for women, and the ways that he felt his generation’s attitudes were very different from their parents’. (Looking back on it, we wished we’d had the chance to share at least a few meals with James, as well. Things seemed a lot more formal at the lodges in Kenya… or maybe we just didn’t know the drill yet and were too shy to ask.)

After lunch we headed back to our tent to take a much-needed nap, charge batteries and do some laundry in the sink. Before we knew it, it was time to make the bumpy ride back to the park, where our bush dinner awaited. I wasn’t sure what to expect from that, but I was surprised when we only drove a short way into the park and stopped at an area near some buildings with electric lighting and a restroom just down some stairs. Okay, not exactly the setting I’d pictured when I heard “bush dinner,” but… We could hardly believe the set-up: a huge buffet, a chef in a tall white hat, a waitress hovering nearby, and one solitary, candle-lit table. All this just for us? We seriously kept waiting for other people to arrive, but the whole buffet spread really was just for the two of us. There was no way we could eat all this food, but I wanted to try at least one bite of everything. And boy, was it delicious—tilapia, mchicha (a local spinach dish), visheti (little finger-shaped “donuts”), and the best, most tender and flavorful beef I’ve ever had. I told the chef that, and he just beamed. He was eager for us to try everything and basked in our compliments, and we felt obligated to stuff ourselves silly. Then a table laden with all types of fruits and desserts appeared, to top things off. We were so full we were ready to burst, and we kept encouraging Jackson, the chef and the waitress to please share the food with us. Does anyone ever eat all of this?? Once again, I have to mention that it was wonderful to have this fabulous meal, but also disturbing to have so very much food thrown at just the two of us, when we knew that nearby there were families who would never be able to give their kids even a fraction of this. We were glad to see the others take some food when we assured them we were all finished and couldn’t eat another bite. Hopefully none of it went to waste.

For our night game drive, we switched to a big, open-sided Land Rover with a spotter’s seat on the front. In addition to Jackson, we were joined by a spotter and a park ranger (with his obligatory rifle). We bundled up in blankets against the chill and set off into the dark forest, watching swarms of bugs zipping around in the spotlight’s beam. It didn’t take long before we began encountering night creatures—small spotted genets, several porcupines trundling along, a freaked-out little pair of dik-diks in the road (one of whom wandered along right in front of us for a long stretch). Whenever the spotter found one of these critters, he put a red filter over his light and was careful not to let the beam linger on any animal too long. Consequently, we got a really great look at all of these animals, instead of just watching them panic and run away. Even if we hadn’t seen anything else that night, this would have been our best night game drive by far. The guiding and spotting was so much more sensitive and skillful than what we’d experienced on our other night game drives, and I just can’t say enough about the feeling of being in an open vehicle at night, with the darkness and all the sounds and smells of the forest that much closer around us.

Our next surprise was a pair of greater bush babies high up in the trees. This was our first chance to really get a look at them (even though we’d been hearing them many nights). Also high in the treetops, we saw a pair of silvery-cheeked hornbills, looking very regal in the moonlight. A white-tailed mongoose was busy scurrying around on the ground below, an animal we hadn’t seen since Mt. Kenya. The night forest was alive with sounds—birds and monkeys and bush babies and rustlings that might have been animals or just the wind… and the sound of our ranger softly bickering with our spotter. “He doesn’t think he’s finding enough animals for you,” Jackson said quietly, with a smile. “He thinks he can do better.”

Suddenly we heard a flurry of noise and screeching in the distance. “Baboons warning about a leopard!” Jackson said. The ranger got visibly excited and began telling us (via Jackson) that they had been seeing a large male leopard on recent nights, not far from this area. So we pushed onward, the spotter swinging his light around. And as the light passed across a patch of darkness, it illuminated a pride of lions! There were three females and a male, all lounging around not far from the road. The leopard was a maybe, the lions were a definitely… so we opted to stay with the lions for a while. The male lion was really amorous and kept sniffing around one of the lionesses, trying to encourage her to get in the mood, but she was having none of it. It was eerie to see how completely they all vanished when the light moved away, leaving us looking into pitch blackness and knowing there were some very large cats out there, somewhere very close. What else was out there behind or beside or in front of us, unseen but able to see us? How easily could one of those cats just stroll around behind us and right up to our open vehicle? It was a spine-tingling thought… but still, I loved this more than just about anything I’ve ever experienced, being out here in the night with them. As the light passed over them, the lions looked back at us with infinite patience, and then most of them went back to sleep.

We finally moved along and left them alone, feeling pretty certain we’d already seen the highlight of our night game drive. But we were wrong. All of a sudden, a low-slung, cartoonish little fellow came wandering out onto the road in front of us. “Oh, look!” I breathed, barely daring to make a sound, “Is that—?” And everyone in our vehicle—Jackson, the ranger, the spotter—just about exploded with excitement and joy. (I am so glad I had our video camera running, because catching their reactions on tape was just priceless.) “Aardvark, aardvark!!” Jackson whispered, nearly leaping out of his seat. “Oh! Oh! You are so, so lucky! It is so rare to see them! Oh, my goodness, you are SO lucky!!” The ranger was grinning from ear to ear, whispering rapidly in Swahili. “He says it has been a very long time since they have seen one in this park. This is wonderful –it proves they are still here!” Meanwhile, the aardvark just snuffled along the dirt road and wandered off into the darkness, totally unaware of how much delight he’d just brought to five people, all of us now as giddy as little kids. “This is only the second time in my life I have seen one,” Jackson exclaimed, and then told us it is an old saying that if a person sees three aardvarks in his lifetime, it means he will live a very long life. “And it’s true,” he insisted, “because you MUST live a very long time in order to see three aardvarks!”

We encountered some more animals on the rest of our drive—hippos grazing, including one chunky yet agile youngster who ran right across our path at a pretty good clip, and some night-time birds—but nothing that could compare with the aardvark surprise. We made it out of the park with one minute to spare before the 11pm deadline. When we dropped off the ranger at his station, he enthusiastically shook hands all around, still grinning, and then practically ran into his station house. “He cannot wait to tell them about the aardvark,” Jackson laughed.

Outside the park gate, we were greeted by the other Green Footprint driver with some troubling news. We were supposed to switch back to our regular Land Rover for the drive back to camp, but there was something wrong with the clutch. So instead we drove all the way back up the hill and along the bumpy road to Kirurumu in our open game drive truck, the wind in our faces and stars overhead. Even at this late hour, there were still people out walking along the dirt roads. A Maasai guide met us to walk with us back to our tent in the darkness. By now it was well past midnight, so we just fell into bed and sound asleep. I dreamt of—what else?—aardvarks.

I'm sad we're heading into the final leg of this report report!

I think your &quot;please help identify me&quot; is a Hartlaub's bustard. I wonder if your &quot;what am I&quot; is a steenbok?

Congrats on the aardvark! That's great that you captured the reactions on video.

Thanks, Patty. I only wish we'd captured the aardvark himself a bit better... it's another one where I'll show you guys an image from our (terrific) video, since the still photos did not come out as well.

Say, how many aardvarks have YOU seen at this point? You must be looking at a pretty long life ahead of you. ;)

Thanks for your help with ID-ing the mystery bird. I thought that other guy was probably a steenbok, but I wasn't sure.

Hmmm... that depends on what we're counting :?

I've only had one legitimate sighting on Sweetwaters. I've seen one in a rehab center. Mark saw one on our last game drive in Namibia but I missed it.

I'm claiming 2.5 ;)

Thank you for all of your wonderful and detailed information in this forum! I was wondering if you could let me know what your experience was with Southern Cross Safaris which I believe you used on a previous safari. Thanks!

For the Tarangire pictures--
What am I? Duiker is my guess.

You caught a ground hornbill in flight and my favorite bird the hoopoe. My only hoopoe photo was also in Tarangire, I believe. The nursing zebra was a closeup. Those baby jackals were adorable. You saw some nice elephant action.

Hmm, so now we have a vote for a steenbok and a duiker. Anyone else?

Lynn, looking back on our photos I realized I have one really big regret from Tarangire -- that we were never in a good position to take a picture that would show the sheer size of those groups of elephants at the swamp! If you look at our photos, you'd think we saw a bunch of small family groups, not the mass elephant parties. Oh well. I guess a journal is good for filling in details on everything you missed with the camera, right?

reslonina, we've never used Southern Cross Safaris. This was our first (and so far, only) safari. Southern Cross was one of the companies we contacted early on for a quote, but we didn't choose them. We went with Eastern &amp; Southern Safaris in Kenya and Greenfootprint Adventures in Tanzania. We thought both companies did an excellent job for us, and we loved our guides.

What an absolutely outstanding trip report,so much detail, awesome!
Now I can cancel my trip, no just joking, but you have convinced us to fly out of the Mara to the Serengeti.

You are so, so lucky to see a serval and a kitten plus an aardvark.

I hope all that buffet food was put to good use somehow--maybe the staff.

That is so wonderful that your time with Jackson was as special as your time with James. A good guide is such an important part of a safari, but becoming good friends with your guide makes it that much more special.

I am enjoying this part of your report as much as the Kenya portion. Your descriptions are so vivid I can picture myself along for the trip. Karama Lodge sounds really nice, with excellent photos to match. I don’t recall reading anything about it on this board, and this will be good information for others.

You had some excellent game viewing at Arusha National Park. When I read your comment that if you were to describe the Garden of Eden, this is what it would look like, I made a mental note to try to fit it in on my next trip to Tanzania. Then I looked at your photos, and decided it’s a must for my next trip. Thanks. I didn’t realize the park was so lovely, or had so much wildlife.

You also had excellent game viewing, both large and small, at Tarangire, as well as fantastic birding. The camp, the staff, the food, and your husband’s birthday celebration at Oliver’s Camp were obviously a hit, as was your Swahili.

What a wonderful trip, amazing trip report, and excellent photos. I can’t wait to read the next installment.

PART 17 – “The Cutest Little Boy in Tanzania” (Oct. 8th, 2007)

Today was a unique day in our African journey, because it was not about the animals at all. Instead, we were going to spend the day with people, hopefully getting a brief glimpse into their lives here in Tanzania. And, best of all, we’d have the chance to meet Josephat, the little by we sponsor at the Rift Valley Children’s Village.

We awoke to warm sunlight streaming into our tent; some time in the early morning, the Maasai guys who work at Kirurumu must have come by and quietly opened the external canvas flaps (they’d been closed when we arrived at the tent late last night). We had a later start today, and it was nice to sleep in a little. But we still needed to have everything packed up and ready to move on. I was moving a little slow this morning, still a bit “hung over” from all of last night’s excitement (can you get drunk on wildlife?). And I also felt a bit nervous—meeting people is always fraught with so much more tension for me than being around animals. (Not to mention our last cultural foray—in the Masai Mara—had been less than successful.) But mostly, I was curious about what it would be like to meet Josephat and the other kids at the RVCV. Would he like us? Would he be indifferent? Would we have anything to talk about with a 7-year-old boy?

But first, we would be touring the village of Mto Wa Mbu with Jackson. When he picked us up in front of the lodge he still had the big, open Land Rover from last night’s game drive. He told us that our regular vehicle would be at the mechanic while we were in town, but it should be ready in time for our afternoon drive to Karatu and the orphanage. We drove over to the Serena lodge to leave our luggage at Green Footprint’s activity office there, since we wouldn’t want to leave things in an open vehicle while in town. A bit of a drag, since this meant we’d have to make another trip back to the Serena to get our bags this afternoon before we headed onward. But I just kept thinking how lucky we were that the car problems coincided with our walking-around-town-day, and that it hadn’t happened when we were out in the bush somewhere or on a long drive between towns.

Our first stop in Mto Wa Mbu was at a medical clinic, a place we’d specifically asked to visit. We were shown around the clinic by the head doctor, and it was fascinating (and sometimes depressing) to hear about his daily practice. The clinic is small but neat and efficient, and they do a lot with limited resources (primarily American donations) to provide preventive and curative treatments for HIV, TB, and, especially, prenatal care. They have a staff of about 25 doctors, nurses and assistants to serve the whole community, and patients pay about $3 a visit, on average (although, of course, some cannot afford to pay at all). We visited their tiny lab, an exam room, the pharmacy, and medical records room. Today was their eye clinic, with an outdoor exam area set up, so we saw lots of patients lined up and waiting in chairs all around the outside of the building, many of them women with small children and babies. The doctor told us that the biggest challenge they faced was teaching people how to prevent health problems, rather than waiting until they were very sick to come to the clinic. He said this particularly the problem with HIV, since no one wants to talk about it. Before we left we thanked him for spending so much time with us (when they were obviously very busy!) and found out how we could send a donation to the clinic after we got home, since we didn’t have enough cash left to spare much on the spot. (One thing to note: although there wasn’t a lot of pressure to donate money, he did politely say, “If you feel inclined to help us…” It’s pretty safe to say that if you visit a medical clinic, a school, or any kind of aid organization, you’ll be inspired to want to help in some way, so consider coming prepared for that.)

After we left the clinic, we took a walk through the banana groves that surround the town. Mto Wa Mbu is a rich farming area, and it was impressive to see the way the banana trees grew so dense and gigantic, towering over our heads as we walked along a narrow dirt path between two farms. Jackson pointed out all the different varieties of bananas and told us how they are used in local cooking—“Jamaica” bananas served in a beef dish, “elephant tusk” bananas for grilling, “mash” bananas for mashing into a porridge. He said that the sweet red bananas were a local favorite, and he’d get some in town so we could try them. We also saw some other local crops, notably coco yam (taro—for, basically, the Tanzanian version of poi), as well as a weed that the Maasai use for mosquito repellent. At one point we saw a couple working out in their field, and the scene was so picturesque that my husband asked if they minded if we took a photo. Jackson called out to them in Swahili and they replied that they wanted payment. One of those uncomfortable moments… my husband just smiled and said, “Well, that’s okay, never mind” (remember, we were $100 short on our tip supply because of the changing cost of visas, so we were really low on cash at this point!). When Jackson relayed this message to them, the farmer shrugged and smiled and Jackson laughed at his reply. “He says just go ahead and take the photo, no need to pay.”

Near the end of our walk through the farms, we stopped to visit a tiny Makonde carvers’ shop and blacksmith, where we talked a bit with the carvers and watched them work. A very old man was sitting on the ground working homemade hand bellows to keep the coals hot. We bought a couple of tiny carved heads (the size of chess pieces), but unfortunately we lost them somewhere along the way and they never made it home with us.

At this point, Jackson gave us a choice for the time we had left before lunch. We could either visit a school, or else go to the local pub and the town market. We chose the latter, because we’d be visiting the kids at the RVCV later on and wanted to have as many different experiences as possible today. So, off to the pub—a tiny outdoor area with shady benches under a roof, and a collection of sheds for storage and fermenting of mbege, banana beer. After a short tour of these and learning how mbege is made, we sat down to try some. A group of little kids gathered around to watch us, giggling and taking peeks at my camera, and we all ate red bananas together. The beer itself was strong and yeasty and not very tasty, but the bananas were the most delicious we’ve ever had. Mostly, it was fun to goof around a bit with the kids, taking their photo and showing it to them on the screen (which elicited even more giggles). With Jackson acting as translator, we chatted with the young woman who owned the pub. She brewed the beer herself, and seemed to get a kick out of the fact that we mzungus would even try it. She asked where we were from, and whether we had any children (everyone here always asks us that). When I said no, she asked how old I was, and said encouragingly and with great enthusiasm, “It’s not too late!” I asked if these kids were hers, and she waved her hand absently and said, “Some of them.”

From there we walked across the main drag to the central market and wandered up and down the rows past the covered stalls, admiring the luscious-looking fruits (every size and shape and color of banana you can imagine), multi-colored beans in hues of purple and red, baskets full of grains and seeds, hanging strings of baobab fruit (which Jackson pointedly told us is good for fertility… seems like everyone in Tanzania is trying to tell us something), roasted catfish on a grill and live fish swimming in murky tanks of water, with music blasting from the stalls where food was cooking. My husband had a special request—he wanted to find some Maasai “Hundred-Miler” sandals for his twin brother. We visited the little shop of a sandal maker, where he got to try on several different styles and see the old tires they were made from. The true “Maasai” style were made with thick, curvy motorcycle tire tread for the soles—they were more pricey, and really hard to walk around in! After some hard bargaining, he ended up buying a more comfortable pair for about $6. A really cool souvenir, and Jackson said that wasn’t a bad price for a tourist. The sandal maker really wanted my husband’s watch at first, but no deal—he told them it was a gift from his wife, and they all laughed and said, “Well, then, she will never let you trade it!”

From the market, it was a short walk back to get our car from the medical clinic (dodging some baboons lurking in the bushes, since Jackson was still carrying the rest of our bananas), and then a short drive through dense banana groves and past small farms to a little local restaurant for lunch. We visited the kitchen—a small outdoor space behind someone’s house with pots bubbling over an open fire and Mama busy plucking a freshly-killed chicken for us. We ate outdoors under the trees, and the food was absolutely delicious—a generous spread of chicken, goat curry, fruit and veggie dishes, lentils, and even some tilapia caught from the little fishpond nearby. For company we had two attentive cats and a couple of baby goats. Plus Stoney Tangawizi to drink (the fizzy ginger soda we hadn’t had since our Kenyan road trips). The only thing we didn’t care for was a very sour, pulpy fruit with big seeds (I can’t remember the name, so I can’t warn you any more specifically than that!). Mama came over to ask how we liked the food and my husband was able to use his Swahili again—“Ninepende chakula cha hapa sana sana!”—much to her delight. She asked about where we were traveling to and where we’d been so far. She guessed correctly that I was an American, but said she wasn’t sure about my husband—was he Japanese? Chinese? Korean? With Jackson’s help and his smidgen of Swahili, he explained about being “Chinese-American,” and how his grandparents came to the U.S. from China. It was fun to talk with her for a bit, and especially cool for my husband to get to use some Swahili. Everyone seems to love it when we’ve made the effort, and it makes me wish I’d learned more. People are so good-natured about our efforts, and no one gives us a hard time if we pronounce things wrong. So, give it a try!

After lunch we drove over to pick up our Land Rover, which was supposed to be ready by now (we were already running about an hour late, just enjoying being on “African time”). But the mechanic was still working on it and seemed pretty grim. It needed a whole new clutch. For the first time, I started to worry about whether we’d actually make it to the RVCV today, and Jackson looked worried too. He told us if they couldn’t fix it we would be able to switch to a minibus that Green Footprint had in town, but that he’d really prefer to have the Land Rover for the Crater tomorrow. We parked the big open vehicle outside a restaurant in a little patch of shade and waited. And waited. By this point it was getting really hot, it was getting late, and we were getting really concerned. Hakuna matata, I kept thinking, but then I would think of Josephat and the possibility that we might not get to meet him, and I got pretty bummed out. The bright spot in all this was that the restaurant was playing some amazing music over a loudspeaker—church choir music with such an infectiously happy, uptempo sound that we couldn’t help being cheered by it. We talked with Jackson about it, and it turned out that he used to sing in a choir just like that when he wasn’t out guiding safaris. He was thrilled that we liked it so much, and happily translated the Swahili lyrics for us as the music played (my husband caught it all on his minidisk recorder). This lead to a conversation about our band, and the music my husband writes, and all the types of music Jackson likes to listen to. (After we got home, we sent Jackson a cassette player, since he’d told us that his was broken and he never got to listen to his tapes anymore… and we also sent him a tape of our band. The guys in our band really loved reading his comments about our music, and suggested we go on a tour of Tanzania someday.)

FINALLY, the car was ready! The mechanic test drove it around the block and everything seemed to be working again, so we swapped vehicles and headed out of Mto Wa Mbu, back up the winding road to the Serena lodge to retrieve our bags, and then speeding off toward Karatu. Along the way, we passed a mud hut with a giant CelTel ad pasted across the roof. By this point I had a fierce little knot in my stomach about the car and it wouldn’t go away. I didn’t trust this cruddy old Land Rover—it wasn’t just the clutch, it was also the back window that wouldn’t stay shut, the broken door on the rear passenger side that never would open and the one on the other side that frequently got stuck, the scratched-up windows the we could barely see out of (and certainly couldn’t snap pictures through). But mostly, it was the feeling of not trusting it to get us where we needed to go… and knowing that it had cheated us out of several hours’ worth of fun with the kids this afternoon. None of this was Jackson’s fault, but we could tell he was feeling really bad about it. And, hey, TIA (this is Africa), stuff happens! But it was still a bummer. Much later, after all was said and done (and we’d made it safely into and out of the Ngorongoro Crater), my husband said that at least that old clunker gave us “safari street cred,” because it was a well-used machine that had clearly seen a lot of action. [It’s worth noting (for any of you considering using Green Footprint) that this was the only real complaint we had with GF, and even then we knew it was relatively minor compared with what could happen. Mary at GF told me that they’d decided to sell that Land Rover because it was getting to the end of its useful life, so hopefully it’s no longer in their fleet. But I do want to emphasize that Green Footprint did a great job for us in every other way, and Jackson handled this one hitch with grace and professionalism. I would certainly book another safari with them, especially with Jackson as our guide. Because, ultimately, a great guide is worth far more than a few hours wasted on car repairs.]

The road out to the Rift Valley Children’s Village was absolutely insane—steep, riddled with huge potholes and ditches in the red earth, so narrow and treacherous at some points that I had to shut my eyes. I kept waiting for the car to kick the bucket, but it plowed along like a trooper (and we sure were glad not to have that minibus!). At last we reached a pleasant little village with a long road lined with jacaranda trees, nestled in the green hills of the Ngorongoro highlands. And there was the sign welcoming us to the RVCV.

We were greeted by Sara, the volunteer coordinator, who showed us around the children’s village and introduced us to Josephat. What an adorable kid! He was so shy when he first met us and shook our hands. His eyes were huge, his little face very solemn as he showed us around his kindergarten classroom. (None of the volunteers could believe how quiet and shy he was, and they kept telling us what a cut-up and goofball he usually was.) I asked him questions about his school, and he showed us their artwork and the weather chart on the wall. “What was the weather like today?” Sara asked him, and he replied in a tiny voice, “It was sunny.” We noticed that Josephat had 15 gold stars for good behavior on another wall chart, more than any other kid in his class.

When we walked up to Tarangire House, where Josephat lives, its littlest resident came out to greet us with his house mama. He was only two years old, but he gave us a big smile and a hearty, “Hello!” (I wish I could remember his name – we met so many kids today, I can’t recall them all.) Sara warned us that we’d arrived at bath time, so we would probably be surprising some naked little boys. As soon as we went inside, a bunch of half-dressed little bodies went running away, shrieking and laughing. Josephat, not to be outdone (since we were HIS visitors, after all) rushed into his bedroom and hid behind the door so he could jump out and scare us as we walked in! We dutifully pretended to be very scared, and the boys in the room cracked up. As Josephat showed us around his room, more and more curious faces peeked in to see what was going on, and the room filled up quickly with kids (and a few volunteers too). The boys seemed especially intrigued by my husband, constantly asking, “Who IS this guy?? Is he from America? Does he play football?” Looking around a bit, we realized that all the volunteers we met were young women—between them and the Tanzanian house mamas, the kids probably didn’t have too many men in their lives.

Josephat got out his sticker book to show us, and Sara said it was his favorite book. We’d sent it to him last Christmas, so I was thrilled to see how beat-up and well-used it was. He wanted to give us each a sticker, so he spent some time flipping through the pages with a look of intense concentration, carefully choosing ones he thought we’d like. He picked a white horse for me and construction equipment for Jackson and my husband, and stuck them on the back of our hands. Then he sat on the bed with his friend Christopher and me and showed us his Spider-man coloring book. He’s a huge fan and has sent us pictures of Spider-man in the past, so I kept teasing him—pointing to pictures of the bad guys and saying, “Is this Spider-man?” The boys would shriek and laugh, “No! Not that one! THIS is him!”

Things started to get a bit rowdy when Christopher and Simone began “showing us their muscles,” and then demonstrating their “Power Ranger” moves for us and wanting us to film them. Josephat, suddenly feeling shy again (and probably overwhelmed by these bigger, louder boys), ducked into the alcove of his closet and started doing his own quick karate chops and kicks in there. But before long it was time for him to go off and take his bath. When Sara told him this, he looked surprised and glanced down at his dusty play clothes and grimy bare feet. “But I’m not dirty!” he insisted.

While Josephat was in the bath, Sara showed us around the rest of the village and talked about the kids’ daily lives. Right now, for instance, they were supposed to be off in their houses having post-bath movie time to wind down before bed, but most of them were too curious about the strangers and kept running up to us to say hello and ask where we were from. Freshly spiffed up in a clean outfit, Josephat came racing back out to the playground to catch up with us, holding the little photo book we’d given him. We also brought toys and games for the kids to share, but they would be getting those later—Sara explained that they don’t like to hand out toys when people come to visit, because they don’t want the kids associating having visitors with getting stuff. Instead, they would keep it for birthdays and other special occasions. But they did tell us that a nice gift we could give Josephat would be some pictures of ourselves that would show him something of our life back in California. We’d put together a little book with pictures of our dog – Kyle at home in his favorite chair, the three of us camping in a tent and hiking in the mountains, things like that. We figured he wouldn’t be interested in pictures of our jobs, but since the kids at the RVCV have several dogs we thought he might like that. He really did seem to dig it—as he flipped through the photos, he said, “What a pretty dog!” and when Sara said, “Do you want to tell them about the dogs here?” he just said, “No, this one is better.” (Darn! I would have liked to meet the kids’ dog!) He also seemed really impressed by the pictures of snow in the mountains.

When it was time for us to go—so we’d make it back out that treacherous road before nightfall—Josephat and Sara walked us back to our car. He thanked us in a very small, sad voice, and I knelt down to say goodbye… and then he threw his arms around me and hugged me so hard! I told him what a good boy he was, and how much we loved finally meeting him, and how we think about him so often and really hoped we could come visit again. He said, “Me too! Very much!” Then hugs all around, and Sara cheered him up with an upside-down tickle session. Josephat stood waving goodbye to us until our car turned a corner and we could no longer see him.

I’m not sure I can adequately convey what any part of our Africa journey meant to us, and just how much it meant… but meeting Josephat was truly one of the great highlights of our time here. What a sweet, funny, kind little boy. We were so lucky to get to meet him; I’m sure he has no idea how much that touched us. (When we returned home to California, we found a postcard waiting for us from Sara, who told us that he liked to look at our picture book every night before bed and several times fell asleep holding the pictures. So we made another little photo book of our visit with him and sent it back to Tanzania.)

We arrived at Plantation Lodge just before dark. This place was a pleasant surprise, after the initial disappointment of not being able to stay at the Crater. Actually, compared with the peek we had at the Ngorongoro Serena, this place was much nicer—it felt a world away from the huge safari lodge and buffet line atmosphere. The gardens were lovely and green, with geese wandering by and flowering trees throwing colorful petals down onto the lawn. It was so quiet and peaceful, and our little cottage named “Jacaranda” (appropriate, I thought, considering that the sight of that tree out the window in Nairobi was one of my first “I’m in Africa!” moments) was gorgeous, definitely one of the most comfortable places we’ve stayed.

The only downside… Tonight at dinner we were seated with a British couple, but we couldn’t have a conversation (not even across the table with each other) because the small dining room was completely dominated by the noise coming from the boisterous and increasingly drunk group at the next table. (I won’t say where they were from, only that they were not from either of the countries represented at our table. Jackson told us the next night he’d heard from the Plantation Lodge staff that one person from this party-hearty group actually got so sick with alcohol poisoning that she had to cut her trip short and fly home early!) The food was delicious, but the noise was so annoying that it was hard to enjoy it. We ate as quickly as we politely could and then happily scooted back to our peaceful little cottage to rest up for our last day on safari. Tomorrow, the Ngorongoro Crater!

Photo slideshow from Lake Manyara, Mto Wa Mbu and the Rift Valley Children's Village (including some really bad photos from the night game drive):
http://tinyurl.com/356rk2

I really am closing in on the end here, folks! Just the Crater and Zanzibar to go. Thanks for sticking with me through all the months it's taken me to write this! I am in awe of those of you who can whip a trip report out in a matter of weeks. :)

What a truely amazing day you had filled with wonderful experiences with wonderful people.

I was almost in tears reading your story about meeting Josephat then having to say goodbye. I don't know that I could leave like that, he seemed to be such a sweet little boy I would have had to bundle him up and and take him home!

Your report has been great and I look forward to the next installment.

Thankyou

Thanks, oneday. Yeah, I was in tears saying goodbye to Josephat, and trying not to show it because I could tell he was sad, too. I am so glad that we started sponsoring him the year before we went to Tanzania, because we had the chance to write letters beforehand... and I am especially glad that we'll have a continuing relationship with him in the future. He's a really great kid, such a sweetheart. I just wish we could have spent an entire day at the RVCV playing with the kids and helping out in some small way. If I'm ever able to plan another trip to Tanzania, I would budget more time for that.

I guess one of the lessons of our Mto Wa Mbu/RVCV day is that it can be risky to plan so much for one day considering the little glitches that can happen along the way, and that most things will take longer than you anticipate. At least our car cooperated well enough to get us to both places!

Thanks for the latest installment--which was very moving.

I agree, very moving. Even your namesake Kyle gets into the act, so to speak. What a great stop to include and more importantly how wonderful that you sponsor a child in Tanzania.

On a less lofty note, I am glad the vehicle worked out and your comment that it has been completely retired is reassuring to future guests.

Leely, I asked you a question on DanaM's trip planning thread.

How wonderful you got to meet Josephat! Enjoyed the latest set of photos too.