atravelynn

Nyamera, I think your theory on the vehicles and their occupants is correct.


If the people you have decided to start giving directions to don't immediately heed them, a little nudge from the topi horns may be all they need.

lovemyhorses

MyDogKyle, I can't begin to tell you how much I have enjoyed reading your Kenya travel report. Your writing is so evocative, and all of the wonderful memories you share are expressed so beautifully. Thank you for sharing your amazing adventure with us.

MyDogKyle

Thanks, everybody. That last entry was a tough one to write. (Nyamera, I bet you're right about those vehicles.)

I'm hoping to get another "chapter" posted some time this week. Thanks again for sticking with me through many, many words and sentences!

MyDogKyle

PART 10 – “Up, Up and Away…” (Oct. 1st, 2007)

The alarm went off early this morning, waking us before sunrise for one of the great adventures of our safari—a flight in a hot air balloon. We met our pilot, J.P., and a big group of Australians in the lobby and hopped into a cranky old vehicle he called “The Beast” (is it a truck? a bus? no one knows), setting off into the darkness of the Mara. Along the way to the launch site, a hippo ran across the road directly in front of us, his chubby bulk caught momentarily in the headlights. And not long after that, the Beast decided to die for a bit, leaving us sitting in the darkness for about 20 minutes while J.P. and the driver fussed with it. In the movies, this would be the point where we’d be surrounded by lions… but all was quiet, save the occasional squawking of the radio, the other vehicle asking where the heck we were. Soon we were on our way again, and any animals out there kept their distance.

The launch site was beside the river, so while they were inflating the balloon, we watched hippos lolling about in the purple-tinged water, grunting and gurgling and wiggling the water out of their ears. We also got another good whiff of water-logged dead wildebeest from somewhere down in the river. And beyond that, a glorious sunrise of orange and deep lavender that filled up the great bowl of sky. It was fun to watch them inflate the gigantic balloon, blasting hot air into it with the burners and lighting up the colors from inside. Or I suppose I should say, it was fun to watch them try to inflate it—the wind had whipped up and kept knocking a dent in the side of the balloon and tipping it sideways. J.P. reassured us that it wasn’t too windy to fly today, that it was going to be fine, but when we climbed into the huge basket I could see the doubtful looks on the crew’s faces. Sure enough, they had to declare the inflation a failure. Everyone climbed back out of the basket and it tipped over on its side as they deflated the balloon. More standing around by the river, more hippo antics below, and by now the sun was well up in the sky. It still looked a bit touch-and-go for a while, the burners blasting with all their might and the balloon wobbling about, and I had just about convinced myself I was going to have to live without a hot air balloon ride when suddenly the great contraption lifted up and J.P. called out, “Okay, everyone into the basket, quick!” We all climbed up the side foot holes and leaped in (some more gracefully than others, but everyone lent a hand). The basket was enormous, holding 16 people. Before I quite realized what was happening, we were lifting gently up into the air, with the hot blast of burners directly above our heads. The ground dropped quickly away below us and the ground crew became tiny waving figures in the distance. I saw them all run for their vehicles to chase after the balloon, and then I turned my eyes forward and felt the rush of flight hit me all at once.

This must be how the Mara looks to the birds – a vast sweep of grassland broken by the humps of hills, the crooked path of the river like a winding silver band, trees as little tufts of green. I think this was the greatest privilege of the flight, having this birds’ eye view of the landscape. The ride was amazingly smooth, and our pilot kept the balloon relatively low because the wind was pushing us along at a good clip. If he’d gone much higher, we would have reached the Tanzanian border in no time, and he had to land before we got there. (Although they tell you the balloon ride is about an hour, it’s really only as long as it takes to get to Tanzania… in our case, about 40 minutes.) But I was glad we were not too high, because I still felt like I had an intimate view of the land we were passing over. We flew past the Serena lodge, which looked like a toy village from this height, and saw several other balloons in the dusky blue distance.

We saw a lot of animals from the balloon, although it is definitely not the best way to see them or the real reason to do a balloon flight, in my opinion (I really think it’s more about the landscape, having this view that you wouldn’t get any other way, and the amazing sensation of flight, and the wind in your face). Most of the wildlife was running frantically away from the balloon’s shadow or the sound of the burners, which did give me some pause about whether this is good for them. Among those we saw bounding or running or leaping or flying away from our shadow (and in a few cases, standing boldly and just looking up at us): bat-eared foxes, a hammerkop, warthogs, a pair of jackals, tommies and reedbucks, a secretary bird, and an elephant family in the distance who didn’t seem to notice us at all. The highlight was flying directly over an enormous buffalo herd which took off running and kept pace with the balloon for bit, little brown calves bucking and leaping alongside the adults. There were topis below us, and zebras, and the lens cap from one of the Australian passengers, accidentally dropped over the side. Around me, people were gasping and laughing and pointing out all the animals, but a part of me was alone, just flying, seeing the twists and turns of the river and all the colors in the grass and earth below: brown, gold, purple, green, red, spread out so far that I imagined I could almost see the curve of the earth at its edges.

All too soon, J.P. told us that he would have to prepare to land soon or we’d end up in Tanzania. So, regretfully, everyone tucked their cameras away and got into landing position: sitting down on a little bench inside the basket, holding onto the rope loops in front of us and bracing for the impact and the slide. And what a roller coaster of a landing it was! The basket thumped hard against the ground and tipped over on its side (as it’s supposed to do), and we skidded fast along the ground with us on our backs looking up at the other row of passengers above us, little rocks and dust and grass flying everywhere. It was exciting (and a little bit scary) to feel the speed of that landing, especially since the flight itself had seemed so serene. Finally we skidded to a stop and everyone was laughing, breathless, rolling and climbing and stumbling out of the sideways basket. “Congratulations,” J.P. said, “You all survived!”

We were standing in the middle of a long green plain dotted with acacia trees and a few inquisitive zebras stood not far away, staring at us. During the flight we’d seen the ground crew racing furiously after us, and now they were somewhere nearby setting up our breakfast. To give them time, we toodled around in the Beast for a bit, admiring zebras and topis… but first J.P. told us more about the mechanics of the balloon and the burners, and showed us the wooden skis built into the bottom of the basket for those sliding landings (“that was a really fast one!” he told us. “Not everyone gets to experience it quite that way.”).

Breakfast was great—but what a strange thing, to be sitting at a long table set with a red tablecloth and camp chairs and china while a chef in a tall white hat whipped up omelets, out here in the middle of the Masai Mara with an audience of zebras. Our pilot opened a bottle of champagne and led us in a toast to our successful flight. Then we all dug in, and I swear that food tastes about 75% better when you eat it in the great outdoors. The fun thing for us was that everyone else on our balloon was part of the same tour group, so while the group all talked with each other, my husband and I had the chance to sit at one end of the table with J.P. and his wife, who are about our age and have been living in Kenya for only a few years. It was so interesting to talk with them about the life of a balloon pilot, what it was like to relocate from Canada to Kenya, and all the travel dreams we each had. J.P. talked about how much he loved the wildlife and learning about his new home, but admitted he had broken down and got a satellite dish and lamented the fact that he rarely had time to travel around and see other parts of Kenya.

After breakfast we headed back to the lodge to meet James for a late-morning game drive. He was raring to go, asking us first about our balloon ride and what we’d seen. But when we started to mention the animals, he quickly dismissed it, saying, “Okay, fine,” in his usual manner. “But no lions?” he asked. “No lions,” we said. “No cheetah?” “No cheetah.” His eyes sparkled, and he seemed happy to hear it.

This morning we saw elephants, Egyptian geese, and topis. We passed through more areas that showed evidence of the migration—great swaths of grassland mowed to a scrubby green carpet, with bleached white skulls and scattered bones and the occasional wildebeest carcass to show where the massive herds had once been. But these areas were empty now, and nearly silent. It was an eerie, beautiful sight.

But of course we did hope to see some animals, not just know they’d been there. So we carried on until we spotted two Land Rovers parked near a rocky hill. James squinted at the hillside, and then said with a huge smile, “Here is your cheetah, who you wanted to see!” But not just a cheetah – FOUR cheetahs! They were all young males, probably brothers, scouting the rocky terrain for small prey and pacing along together in that lanky way of theirs, half-cat and half-dog in their mannerisms. They continued up the hillside to a shady spot and settled in for a nap, blending effortlessly into the landscape. What a thrill to see them, my favorite big cats!

A bit farther on, James stopped the minibus off road and said, “Where is the lodge? I am lost.” Now that we’d spent a week together, he was really getting more and more silly and showing us his goofy side. This was another great (and unexpected) treat of our safari—getting to know James, and having the feeling change from a more formal guide-client relationship to having these moments of him teasing us, trading stories about our lives and families with each other, and sharing the excitement of discovery with each new animal sighting. It was fun to see how much he loved those moments with the animals too, even after four decades of guiding safaris.

On our late afternoon game drive to day we had our closest thing to a Great Migration Moment—I guess we could call it our “almost river crossing.” This is the time of year when the migrating herds of wildebeest and zebra are in the Mara and thinking about heading back south into the Serengeti, so things like river crossings and thundering herds on the plains may or may not happen at any given time. James told us about a group of avid photographers he’d guided who insisted on seeing a river crossing, and how they sat parked in the minibus for five days waiting for it to happen! Eventually they saw the animals leaping into the river, but for us that was not the way we wanted to spend our precious time in the Masai Mara. So I think we had reasonable expectations about seeing a river crossing—that is, we expected that we wouldn’t see one. Whether or not one of those Big Moments happen while you’re around to witness it, one of the really amazing things to see is the way the animals communicate with one another, and the ways their behavior changes as they gear up for the big move. This is what we were lucky enough to witness today.

But first… buffalo, little bee-eater, and lots of hippo action! We drove over to the Mara River and saw dozens of hippo tracks leading out of the water to their nighttime grazing areas. At the river, we could see both hippos and crocodiles basking on the river banks in the sun. At least a dozen more hippos were in the water, bobbing under the surface and then popping back up in a whoosh of exhalation and wiggling ears, chuckling and grumbling, mock-fighting with wide open mouths. Several babies floated amongst the giant adults, like shiny little bath toys. At one point a bloated wildebeest carcass drifted past a group of hippos, and they startled noisily off in different directions, barking a warning to another pod of hippos farther downstream. A crocodile swam eagerly over to the bobbing corpse and nudged at it, then swiftly pushed it away as if in disgust. The wildebeest body continued it lazy float down the river.

We drove farther down the river and spied an enormous herd of wildebeest and zebras milling about of the opposite bank. All along the river we could see crossing areas, where the steep bank had been worn away into a sloping dirt freeway by trampling hooves. James pointed out the way the animals were gradually beginning to stop grazing and lift their heads, how there was much head-tossing among the wildies and a gradual sense of communal movement all in one direction. He told us they were thinking of crossing some time soon, and looking for a good place to do it. We had some time to give them, so we waited and watched to see what they would do. They began moving en masse along the river bank, the wildebeest with their purposeful head-bobbing and occasional bouts of crazy bucking and frolicking, the zebras more stoic. They moved along for a bit then stopped, milled about anxiously, moved along some more, closer and closer to a well-worn crossing point just upstream from the hippos. Maybe… maybe…? But ultimately, no. Evidently someone decided the time or place wasn’t quite right, and very gradually we noticed the urgency drain out of the group as their movement slowed, heads went back down to graze, and they dispersed again along the far shore. Some part of me was a bit disappointed by this, of course (who wouldn’t want to see wildies and zebras rushing down and across the river?), but I still felt really lucky to see the herd behaving that way, and to witness those subtle and fascinating shifts in their behavior. One of the things we learned on safari is that you are never really disappointed by what you see or don’t see, because everything is such a gift and Africa is constantly surprising you in ways you never expected (as you’ll see in just a moment, that’s exactly what happened on this game drive).

We decided to move on while we still had light. I really noticed today how wonderful it smells out here (dead wildies aside)—fresh and earthy, with a bright tang in the air that’s unlike anything I’ve ever smelled before. So much open space and so much variety of life, each with its own scent, mixing into an intoxicating cocktail. We drove to a particularly beautiful spot, a brilliantly green swamp with a backdrop of thick trees, and there we saw dozens of water birds and a shaggy waterbuck who lived up to her name by leaping gracefully down into the water and causing the birds to scatter. Behind her, giraffes began to emerge from the cover of the forest to nibble on the trees, and zebras stood around below them looking like a million bucks against the bright green backdrop. It was a ridiculously cinematic moment (cue the giraffes! cue the zebras! waterbuck leap – action!).

As if all of this wasn’t enough for one day, we came across two huge male lions just waking up for the evening. One walked over to the other and flopped down beside him, and they began wrestling like two gigantic kittens—rolling back and forth in the grass, exposing their pale fuzzy bellies and softly patting and slapping each other with their enormous paws. One guy got up and strolled away for a little more snooze time, but his brother followed and plopped down on top of him again to snuggle. It was so amazing to watch them together, how gentle they were, even when one was attempting to catch the other’s flicking tail. When they both finally curled up together in a big tan ball and went back to sleep, we realized it was getting late and we had to head back to the lodge. But nature had one more surprise for us – a serval waiting right beside the road on our way back up the Serena hill. He moved too fast for us to get a good photo (none of that lionly lounging around for him), but we did get a good look at his face and his beautiful markings. “I think,” James said, “game drive is better than balloon.” We were so spoiled for cats today, we could hardly think straight—but we had to agree.

By the time we reached the lodge we were really in a rush. It was fully dark, and we had about 20 minutes to say good night to James, jump out of the car, race back to our room (which seemed about six miles away from the lobby now), change into warm clothes for our night game drive, get back to the lobby to pick up our balloon certificate and photos from J.P., and meet our Serena guides for our night game drive. We ran as fast as we could, startling a hyrax as we raced down the path to our room, and made it back just in time. Into the Serena’s Land Rover, everyone bundled up in Maasai blankets beside the open windows, looking eagerly out into the darkness as we headed off down the hill with our guide and ranger and spotter… and less than half a mile down the road it was raining so hard they decided to turn back and postpone the game drive until the following night, since everyone who had signed up would still be here tomorrow. As we walked back into the lobby J.P. said, “Guys, what happened?” and when we told him, he said we were lucky that they’d rescheduled and not just taken us out on an abbreviated drive in the rain. True. It worked out well, because we now had time to sit with the rest of our ballooning group and watch the video the pilot’s wife had put together for us.

Eventually the rain tapered off and we used the unexpected time to relax out on the terrace with some amarula beside the campfire, listening to one of the staff members play the guitar and sing songs in Swahili. Only a small group of people were at the fire pit, so it didn’t feel like we were at such a large lodge. The guitar player asked where we were from, and when we answered California, he began playing “This Land is Your Land,” emphasizing the mention of our home state and then adding a chorus about East Africa (“This land is your land, this land is my land, from the Masai Mara to Kilimanjaro…”). Definitely not a song I expected to hear in Kenya! But he was funny and charming, with a great singing voice. The next morning we saw him walking up the path, and he gave us a big smile, calling out, “Jambo, California!”

Jess215

I am really enjoying your report - it is keeping my own recent trip alive, and helping me sort through my own memories.
I see you had a short tiger safari in India - something I've thought about. Am thinking I might want to spend some time on my own in Delhi, and then have the xeperts help me find the tigers....Can you tell me whom you dealt with there?
Thanks
Jess

MyDogKyle

Hi Jess,

We organized our 4-day tiger safari with a company in Delhi called Wild World India (www.wildworldindia.com). They have suggested itineraries on their website, or they will set up a custom itinerary for you. We did a shortened version of their "Corbett Experience" trip, since we only had 4 days before we had to meet up with some friends in Delhi.

Just FYI: What we did was not at all like our African safari, in terms of accommodation. We stayed in forest rest houses, which were unheated concrete buildings and very basic (we needed to use our sleeping bags when we were there in December). Meals are very basic as well. When we were there, all of the other guests at the camp were Indian families, and it was a fun way to visit with local folks. This was exactly what we wanted and it was a good bargain, but if you are interested in the more upscale properties that provide tiger safaris, you would definitely want to discuss that with Wild World India. I think they can probably arrange those as well. We made all our arrangements with them via e-mail, including an overnight in Delhi and all transfers, and it worked out great. A tiger safari is amazing and very rewarding, but you definitely have to work harder for your sightings than you do in Kenya or Tanzania!

Jess215

thanks - good information.
Jess

atravelynn

With a 20 minute delay you are lucky you made your balloon liftoff. The detailed account you gave of the balloon is wonderful and included the good and the not so good aspects.

That's great you became more and more friendly with James as your trip went on. That makes it so much harder to depart.

Your description of the wildebeest and zebra gearing up to cross the river and then having "the urgency drain out of the group" is exactly how I recall it.

From the balloon to the four cheetah to the male lions to the sing-along, it was quite a day. Thanks for sharing it.

MyDogKyle

PART 11 – “James’ Favorite Animal” (Oct. 2nd, 2007)

This morning we saw a glorious sunrise from our balcony when we woke up for our early morning game drive on the way to our breakfast with the hippos. So far, Africa has not been very generous with the beautiful sunsets we’ve heard so much about, but these Kenyan sunrises have been to die for. Our first sighting this morning was a herd of 24 topis, the largest group of them we’ve seen. In the distance we could see hot air balloons descending to land, and while we admired the lovely picture they made against the sky, James told us he thought there were far too many of them flying over the Mara these days, and he did not think it was good for the animals. I absolutely see his point, but I’m conflicted about it because we had an amazing experience flying (and are balloons better or worse than the helicopters that fly constantly over places like the Grand Canyon or Kauai?). I suppose, like vehicles on game drives, it’s also largely a question of responsible behavior (and perhaps setting limits on the numbers) than something that should be banned altogether. I don’t necessarily think a hot air balloon flying by overhead and startling an animal is necessarily any worse than 24 vehicles surrounding a leopard or a group of lions. But I do agree with James that it would be good to put a limit on the number of balloons going up every morning. Does anyone know if there is a limit? James was not sure.

We saw so many hippos today, even before our breakfast date with them, as well as white-browed coucal, giraffe, a large group of bachelor boy impalas, secretary birds strutting through the grass, and some adorable baby hyenas (I’m one of those that find them adorable, no matter what other people say!). We sat and watched a troop of baboons for a while, especially entranced by the babies playing. But baboons are so difficult to photograph! For one thing, they are constantly in motion. But more significantly, they seem to realize you’re pointing a camera at them (maybe it’s that big, staring eye of the lens), and they’ll deliberately turn their backs on you. By this point, we’ve experienced that so many times that we’ve decided this is an animal it’s far better to just sit and watch and enjoy their behavior, instead of trying to “capture” it in pictures. As we were watching them, James told us a story about when he was a little boy, how he and his friends played a trick on a particularly naughty baboon in their village. They gave it a drink made from the fruit of a sausage tree, and the big fellow got very drunk and passed out. While he was sleeping it off, the boys put a bell around his neck. When he woke, the baboon clanked around making such a racket that all the other baboons ran away from him. Eventually the boys took pity on him and removed the bell. James laughed as he told the story, but then got very serious and added, “Of course, you know I would never do such a thing now – the rangers would not like it!”

We arrived at the breakfast site a bit early and occupied ourselves with watching hippos. Every now and then, one of them would yawn spectacularly, showing off those big, blunt teeth, but we always seemed to have our camera pointed elsewhere when he did. “This is your game today,” James announced, “to capture a yawning hippo.” We played the game for a while, but the hippos won and we never got that perfect open-mouthed shot.

The “Breakfast with the Hippos” is one of the Serena Lodge’s activities, and we really enjoyed it. (I am so much more a fan of eating meals out in the bush rather than standing in the dining room buffet line.) We got out of our vehicle (not far from a sign that read, “Do Not Alight from Vehicle,” actually) and walked a short way along the river with a Maasai guide to a clearing where we found small tables overlooking a pod of hippos. Nearby was a buffet table loaded with fresh fruit and bread, and an omelet station manned by chefs Moses and Lawrence. The food was delicious, complete with champagne, and we had a lot of company. I don’t just mean the enthusiastic group of birders at the next table (so occupied with their gigantic lenses that they could hardly put them down and eat a bite of the food) – in addition to our hippo hosts, we were joined by crocodiles in the river below and scores of small birds begging around (and sometimes on) the tables. The most expert beggars of all were the dozens of banded mongooses who swarmed around the table next to ours. I quickly lost respect for that group of birders when I saw them handing food to the animals and luring them over for photos. They were certainly adorable and I understand the impulse, but I wish someone from the Serena staff would have asked them to stop. After breakfast, a Maasai guide took us on a short walk along the river and talked about hippo and croc behavior. Several times he had to call to the birders and tell them not to wander off from the group. It’s amazing to see how so many people don’t “get it,” this thing about walking around in the animals’ home, and how you should never take your safety for granted.

After breakfast we set off with James again, and it wasn’t long before we encountered our best sighting of the day. Two male impalas were engaged in a furious fight, locking horns and shoving back and forth, so intent on each other that neither of them noticed the two hyenas stalking toward them from either side. (Later, we would tell our Tanzanian guide about this event, and he said he liked to call these “hyena referees.”) There was also a family of warthogs off to one side, watching intently like spectators at a match. We watched the battle rage back and forth, horns clattering and bodies thudding together while the hyenas circled closer and closer… until finally one of the impalas glanced off to the side and noticed the closest hyena, only a few yards away. Instantly, the impala boys forgot their difference and went leaping off together at high speed. The hyenas only bothered to follow for a short ways, and then turned and ambled across the road, sending the warthogs scrambling too, their tails held high in the air.

The rest of our game drive was more about birds than mammals—a tawny eagle hunting, a flock of dozens of superb starlings picking through the remains of someone’s picnic site, and our first ostriches, who looked remarkably like bushes in the distance, until they began to move. James has a great enthusiasm for birds, because they can be so challenging to identify. As he was telling us this, I finally decided to ask him if he has a favorite animal. I thought he might say lions, based on his obvious delight whenever we’d seen them. First he gave us a diplomatic answer: “My favorite animal is whatever YOU most want to see, because you are my guests here.” “Oh, come on,” we protested, “which one would you be most excited to see, if you were driving by yourself and did not have guests with you?” James thought about it for a moment, and then said, “It is not a single type of animal. What I love best is all of nature—the wildlife, and the plants, and the birds, and the weather and the insects—how everything fits together. That is my favorite, to see how these things work together.” And then, with an impish smile he added, “But as a boy, I liked elephants best.”

After lunch back at the lodge, we got an earlier afternoon start than usual so we would have time to visit a Maasai village outside the park, near the Oloololo gate. We’d felt like the Samburu village visit had been a worthwhile thing to do, despite some mixed feelings, but we weren’t entirely sure if it was something we wanted to do again. But James was really enthusiastic about it, saying, “Your visit to the Mara will not be complete if you only visit the animals and not the Maasai people!” And although he may have been encouraging this because he got a kickback from the village for bringing us there, he did have a point, too—this place is not just about the animals. (By the way, I don’t judge the guides for this sort of thing, and James did not try to pressure us into it. He was always very good about listening to us and doing what we wanted to do. I’m sure if we had said no, it would not have been a problem.) I had a lot of misgivings, but my husband wanted to go and it was something different to do here, and so I kept my mouth shut. We drove out of the park and headed up a treacherous, rutted dirt road that seemed to go straight up the escarpment, with rain coming hard on our heels. Several times I gripped my husband’s hand as the minibus lurched and ground its way up the increasingly muddy road.

At last we reached a small village called Enkerere, which means something like “the beautiful view.” They certainly had that from this high perch, looking back over the vast plains of the Mara. Our guide here was a young man named Johnson, who had a very tenuous grasp of English (but still far better than our grasp of Maa or Swahili). He promised we could take all the photos and video we wanted, collected our admission fee, and showed us through the thorny gate into the boma. Here he handed us off to a slightly more verbose guy named Julius, who grouped us with a Japanese couple who had arrived earlier (and who seemed very uncomfortable to be there). We all stood around in the mud as the rain fell harder, and the guides brought us big umbrellas. The flies were really intense here, crawling all over us and buzzing around our faces, drawn by so much mud and goat manure. The goats were all starting to wander into the boma’s central corral, drawn back home by the rain and brining even more flies with them. I’ve been around livestock all my life and raised horses and sheep, so usually this doesn’t bother me (manure definitely doesn’t phase me), but this was pretty tough; it was a struggle to keep brushing flies off my mouth and eyes and arms. I’ve never seen such aggressive flies.

The men did a fire-building demo (quite a challenge with the rain), then a small group of women came out and performed an embarrassingly half-hearted song and dance, looking for all the world like they would rather be anywhere but here in front of some tourists. After that we took shelter in one of the oblong mud huts. This one definitely did not have the lived-in feel of the Samburu home we visited (it was spotlessly clean and there was nothing inside except a bed to sit on, no real cooking area or signs of life). We wondered if it had been tidied up for the tourists, or if perhaps it was set aside just for this purpose and no one had ever lived here, but I thought it would be rude to ask about that. Throughout all of this—the fire-building, the song, the goats, inside the house—the two guides kept handing items to my husband and the Japanese guy (beaded talking sticks, shields, spears), so much that they could hardly take any photos because their hands were always full. No one told us anything about these items or their cultural significance, so it seemed pretty clear that their actual significance was to get us to part with some more money. My husband said several times, “No thank you, I don’t want to buy,” and tried to hand them back, but no doing. Everyone just smiled and refused to take them back. (He ended up quietly leaving them behind in the house.) After some prompting, Julius did tell us a few things about the house construction, but generally they did not tell us anything about the village and just kept asking us, “Do you have any questions?”

We exited and walked a short way farther through the village, where we saw some very annoyed-looking little kids ducking back into the doorways of their homes to hide from us. Again, this was very different from the Samburu village, where people were much friendlier and came up to say hello to us, with the children waving and smiling. The most unfortunate moment came when a little boy tried to dart back into his house and Julius grabbed him by the arm and forced him to stand in front of the doorway, imploring us to “Take pictures, take pictures,” while the kid squirmed and looked miserable. Of course we said, “No thank you, we have plenty of pictures,” and I was relieved when he let the boy go. What on earth was that little guy thinking about all of this? My overall impression of this place was that it was a real village where people lived, not something just set up for the tourists, and that some of the adults (the men, probably) had decided that it was worthwhile to give tours and get some tourist dollars for the village. But it was excruciatingly clear that not everyone was thrilled by this idea, and some women and children we saw there were clearly outright unhappy about the whole thing.

All of this took maybe 20 minutes or so, and then we were whisked, naturally, to a women’s marketplace set up beside the village. The Japanese couple escaped quickly, but we felt obligated to wander around and look at things as a courtesy. I thanked the women there for letting us visit their village, but I don’t know if anyone understood me. There was nothing I wanted to buy, and I felt so disturbed by the whole experience, so we left as soon as we had made one circuit around the group. Johnson walked us back to our car, looking miserable that we didn’t buy anything, and I wanted to say, “Hey, why so down? We just gave you $40 for 20 minutes of your time!” But of course we didn’t say anything like that—just thanked him for the tour and said goodbye. James seemed a bit alarmed that we were done so fast and we had to assure him that it was fine, we’d seen enough. The whole way back down the hill I felt sick at heart, wondering if I had done anything at all to benefit the people in that village, or if I was simply contributing to a problem for them and for the other tourists who would come after us, and for the relationship (such as it was) between us.

So, did we think this village visit was worth the time and money? It’s probably clear from my comments that no, it was not. There were parts of the experience that were downright awful and uncomfortable for everyone involved, and if we’d known what we were in for we would have skipped it. The only upside is that it was interesting to see the differences in design, layout, houses, and clothing between the two types of villages, Samburu and Maasai. I imagine some Maasai villages would be different and offer a better experience than this one. Despite myself, I almost think it would be less uncomfortable at a more polished, “commercialized” village where people make you feel more welcome. It’s a strange dilemma. You want to have some opportunity to interact with and learn about local people when you visit a place, but I’m not sure there’s a way to do that here unless you are working in a village for a while and really get to know people, or else are lucky enough to have a local guide who invites you to meet his own family and friends. I want to make it clear that I don’t blame the Maasai people for wanting to profit from the tourists and take advantage of all the foreign dollars coming onto their land, considering how much they have been taken advantage of. And if it encourages the preservation of their culture in any small way, then I guess there is something positive in this strange arrangement. But overall, visiting this village was one of the few low points in our trip, for both of us, and neither of us was comfortable with the way things went in Enkerere.

The game drive on the way back to the lodge was a more happy matter. It was raining quite a bit now, so the roads were a mess and all the animals were streaked dark and soggy, most of them looking like they were reveling in the cool shower. Big groups of buffalo, zebra, and wildebeest. A large family of elephants with small babies. And the best surprise of this drive, a tiny jackal pup standing on a mound of earth right near the side of the road. We saw his parents watching us warily from nearby, and James said their den was probably very close. This little guy was wandering around only a few feet away from us, scrambling over the wet earth and peering up through the windows at us in curiosity. There’s no good way to describe the infinite cuteness of that pup’s face, but trust me—he might win the Adorable Baby Animal award for our whole safari.

We had to stick to the main roads because of the mud, so we revisited the beautiful swamp from yesterday. There we saw a group of waterbucks in alarm mode. We investigated and waited, but we weren’t able to find a predator nearby (which, of course, doesn’t mean there wasn’t one). Instead, we saw a gigantic buffalo bull, all alone; 4 giraffes hiding in the cover of the trees and another one crossing the road; and a number of gorgeous birds including a kingfisher, yellow-billed storks, grey heron and guinea fowl. We also accidentally flushed out a shocked waterbuck who’d been neck-deep in the marsh very close to our car.

Once more, we had a quick turnaround at the lodge and another attempt to go out on a night game drive. This time, despite some spectacular lightning in the distance, the weather cooperated and allowed us to see a little bit of the Masai Mara at night. We were in a shared Serena Land Rover, as before, with a really skilled, interesting guide. But, as with Sweetwaters, there were still a few grumblers who complained about not seeing any big cats. That’s crazy, because we saw so much! And just driving around this amazing place, the plains and riverbank below the lodge that we’d seen from our balcony, was such a different experience in the dark. Night sounds around us like a symphony of animals, large and small, a deep bowl of stars overhead, and jagged streaks of lightning far across the plains. Here’s what we did see, including a lot of special little critters we would never have seen in the daytime: a juvenile black mamba right beside our car (what a great way to see a snake, and completely unexpected!); dozens of Cape hares jumping every which way; impalas and topis and tommies and waterbucks and dik-diks in their watchful nighttime mode; a fish eagle on the hunt, screeching his war cry; Lappert’s vultures and marabou storks high in the bare branches of a tree; hippos hippos hippos everywhere, out of the water and grazing; silverback jackals; bat-eared foxes; white-tailed mongoose; genets; and one very stressed-out wildebeest who had somehow managed to get separated from her herd and was in a terrible panic in the darkness. It was a fascinating game drive, and I only wish we could have stayed out more than an hour. I love seeing the night creatures, especially, and there is something really wonderful about getting a peek into their world—a reminder that even after you’ve gone back to the lodge or back across the ocean to your own home, these animals’ lives continue to unfold in all their drama and complexity. We returned to the lodge for a late dinner and fell into bed exhausted, feeling sad that our time in the magnificent Mara—and in Kenya—was drawing to a close.

MyDogKyle

Masai Mara photo slideshow:

http://tinyurl.com/2gv98p


Next up: our last morning in the Mara and heading off to Tanzania.

Nyamera

24 topis are good, but 25 are better. I’ve seen herds of hundreds.

I’ve never had a bad village visit like yours at Enkerere, but I’m always hoping the guide won’t suggest one. I don’t really know what to think.

Now I’ll have a look at the photos.

MyDogKyle

Thanks, Nyamera. There are a couple of photos in there especially for you.

Take a look at the aerial shot (from the balloon) of the big herd -- are those topis? I thought I could make out the horns, but I wanted to ask the expert.

Nyamera

They are definitely topis. Thanks for the other topi pictures! The jackal pup really should get an award of some sort. I don’t know if this will make me sound stupid, but one thing I can’t understand is who took the picture of you flying over the buffaloes. A vulture?

Btw, the animals heading out the village gate are sheep. Today I’m an expert at everything horned and those sheep don’t even have horns.

MyDogKyle

Oh, how shameful for me, since I used to raise sheep! You're right, I wasn't looking carefully while captioning. They had a mixed herd and the goats were lagging behind.

I wish a vulture had taken that photo, because that would be a great story. But the truth is that the balloon pilot's wife had a camera mounted on a pole and she took photos of us right before takeoff and during the flight.

Patty

Kyle is so cute! Love all of the road scenes. You had a great view of Mt Kenya. It was obscured by clouds all 3 days on our last trip. Nice ones of the Grevy's and the reticulated giraffe necking. Off to view your other albums and catch up on your report!

Patty

Just finished your Sweetwaters/Nakuru album. I've never seen lions that spotted before either. Nice waterbuck and flamingo together. I think warthogs are absolutely adorable too!

simbakubwa

MygodKyle,

If you had to choose one.... would you say you preferred your Kenya experience or your Tanzanian experience?

Leely

I'm behind, but I'm catching up! Keep it coming; this is wonderful.

MyDogKyle

Thanks for the nice comments, everybody.

Simbakubwa, that's a really tough question to answer. I really don't think I can say I liked one country or the other better, because we had such a great time in both. I'm one of those people who never tires of game drives, but I will say that we were happy to have arranged the trip the way we did -- the larger (less pricey) lodges were in Kenya during the first half of the trip with game drives being our primary activity, and in Tanzania we stayed in smaller, more intimate places and did more physical things like canoeing and walking, ending up on the beach in Zanzibar. Those contrasts made our whole three weeks really interesting and varied.

Here's where Kenya has the edge for me: more contrasts of scenery and habitat; different species in the north and south of the country; lovely views of Mt. Kenya; traveling by road enabled us to see more of the country and people outside the game reserves; and although I know there are some good arguments against it, being able to drive off-road got us much closer to the animals in many cases

And what I liked best about Tanzania: we had much better cultural experiences here; roads were much better and we did some flying so the travel was less exhausting; getting out of the vehicle for a walking safari & canoeing; a night game drive in an open vehicle; the whole experience at Oliver's Camp in Tarangire was exactly what I'd always dreamed a safari would be (more on that later); Zanzibar was the perfect place to end up and Swahili food there was fantastic.

So, there's a LOT to love in both countries. And you can also find ways to incorporate great experiences (sleeping in tents, walking safaris, ballooning, meals out in the bush) in either Kenya or Tanzania. Of course, you can also do either driving or fly-in safaris in either place, too. So much ultimately depends on how skilled your guide is, and we were fortunate to have excellent guides in both Kenya and Tanzania.

Sorry, I just can't choose. I want to go back to both!

atravelynn

Your continued commentary on the balloon via Guide James' remarks deserves the award for fair and balanced coverage. Then you've got the photos of the balloon and more from the balloon for a real photo journalism extravaganza on the balloon ride. Your first shot in the album of the balloons is a post card!

I think the fair and balanced coverage extends to your unpleasant village visit.

I wonder how James got the bell off of the baboon. More sausage tree moonshine maybe?

The impala match reffed by the hyenas was quite a find and you got some good shots of the tussle.

The baby jackal is adorable. I bet you occasionally wonder about him/her.