good-bye kenya...

Like all things fun, new and exciting, our time in the Kenyan wilderness flew by in what seemed like a nanosecond.  It went so fast that Aman and I found ourselves having a serious conversation about the possibility of extending our stay by a night ... oh, the joys of having a flexible travel schedule.  Cooler heads prevailed of course, when we got an estimate of what a one-night extension would cost.  We also realized that the problem was that we didn't want to leave at all, and prolonging our inevitable departure by one night did not make much sense.  Besides, we had accomplished so much during our relatively brief stay... 3 day game drives, 1 night game drive, 1 full-day excursion to the Maasai Mara, 1 walking safari, countless sightings of wildlife in connection with all of the above, and a cultural visit to a Maasai village to boot.  Not bad.  Here are some photos from our last game drive, which included a spectacular sunrise, a delicious bush breakfast, and brilliant views of a giraffe herd moving gracefully across the distant plains as we ate:

All of this says nothing of our time in camp, and all the fun we had there.  Each night was fairly similar.  After arriving home from a long day traversing the plains, we and the camp's other guests would congregate in the mess hall.  We would gather round the fire on one of the soft over-sized couches and recount the day's adventures, before moving to the dining area for a delicious family-style meal.  The camp managers, Roelof and Helen, joined us each night, as did Arthur, the camp's assistant manager.  There was also Richard and Craig from the U.K., Jonathan, a British ex-pat living in New York, and Kevin and Greg from Texas.  (Sorry guys, I never figured out how to make the font blink... trying my best with colorful bold!)

the real maasai

Apart from walking safaris, game drives and cozy nights nestled around the campfire, one of the more interesting things that we did in the Maasai Mara was to visit a local Maasai village.  One of the better known ethnic groups of Africa, the Maasai are semi-nomadic, cattle-keeping people who inhabit the vast scrubland in and around the game reserves of Kenya and northern Tanzania.  The Maasai follow various age-old customs that pertain to and influence everything from their dress (bright red clothing and intricate beaded jewelry), to their diet (heavy in milk and maize-meal), to their views about wealth (counted in terms of cattle and children -- in both cases, the more, the better), to their social organization (roughly determined by age).  A visit to the village of a Maasai tribe leaves you with a greater understanding of and appreciation for the people's pastoral lifestyle, which is incredibly uncomplicated and, in many respects, quite difficult.  For example, the children of the village where we visited must walk 12 kilometers, each way, to and from the nearest school.  The women dedicate an entire day each week to collecting water from the most nearby source -- they take all that their donkeys can carry back in one trip, which amounts to approximately 240 liters of water per family, per week. (Consider in comparison that, according to the U.S. Geological Survey, the average person in the United States uses an estimated 300-380 liters of water per day.)

The particular village that we visited was as basic and traditional as it gets.  Circular in layout, the center of the village was a large pen ringed by uneven timber poles and topped with razor wire, where the cows are kept for the night.  The pen was flanked on either side by two smaller corrals for keeping smaller livestock (sheep and goats). Around the pen sat a ring of low, earth-brown houses.  Six in all, they were made of skinny timber poles, smaller sticks, grass, mud and dung.  Beyond the houses was a fence of sorts primarily made from interwoven heaps of thorny branches from the native acacia tree.  This enclosure is all that protects the people and their livestock from wild animals at night.  No hospital, no post office, no school, no general store... three corrals, six mud houses and a fence made of thorny brush.  (Stop and think about that for a minute...)

We arrived at the village in the early evening.  One of the busiest times of the day, evening is the time when the older boys bring in the livestock for the night.  Before passing through the thorny enclosure of acacia, we were greeted by one of the village elders, as well as a group of very curious little boys who were delighted by Aman's camera and our week's worth of photos from the wild.  The older men showed us a deep reservoir that they had recently dug for collecting rainwater -- an effort to alleviate the village's lack of water.  For their part, the women brought us in one of their houses -- they showed us the open fireplaces in the center of the home used for cooking and the tiny adjacent rooms where the children slept on the floor, as chickens clucked and walked aimlessly about the open doorway.  Without windows, the house was dark and the air choking-hot and thick from the lingering smell of fires past.  Outside, the children walked up to us, smiling shyly and bowing slightly so that we could touch the tops of their heads, considered to be a sign of respect, their faces full of joy.  In all, a priceless experience and one that, perhaps, is best told by the pictures...

... hello uganda!

the great wildebeest migration

After two nights in the wild, Aman and I had learned several things of interest.  For example:

• Lions are way more afraid of humans than humans are afraid of lions; 
• Elephants have extremely poor eyesight, but an excellent sense of smell; 
• Everyone in East Africa knows that New York's B&H Photo is the best camera store in the world; and
• My limited knowledge of Swahili comes primarily from watching Disney's The Lion King as a teenager...

Go figure.  By now, it was morning three of our five-day/four-night safari in the Maasai Mara, and we awoke to a daily delivery of fresh coffee and biscuits to our tent, brought to us by a red blanket-clad Maasai member of Naboisho's staff.

Today was the big day.  The day that we were scheduled to leave the quiet comforts of the Naboisho Conservancy and journey to the neighboring and comparatively more crowded Maasai Mara National Reserve.  The purpose of our excursion was to capture a glimpse of that moment which so perfectly embodies the immensity and perilous nature of the great wildebeest migration.  The dramatic moment that the wildebeest face predacious crocodiles -- not to mention the very real risk of being stampeded to death -- while crossing the Mara River as part of their migration north from the Serengeti plains to Kenya in search of fresh pastures.  Keep in mind, the great migration is a natural phenomenon that involves the migratory movement of 1.5 million wildebeest, more or less, as well as hundreds of thousands of gazelles, zebras, topi and eland.  It is an awe-inspiring, momentous progression of large game.  The last of its kind in the world.

Our first exciting wildlife encounter of the day, however, had nothing to do with wildebeest.  Rather, it involved one of the "big five," a leopard, which we came upon as we made our way to the Mara River.  (Characterized as the five most difficult animals in Africa to hunt on foot, the "big five" game are lion, leopard, African elephant, Cape buffalo and rhinoceros.)  The leopard is a relatively elusive animal.  Neither I nor Aman had ever seen one before.  Thus, we were pretty stoked to join the dozen or so safari vehicles encircling a dense thicket of brush where we were told that a leopard had been spotted minutes before we stopped.  We -- me, Aman, and our safari buddies, Richard and Craig -- popped out of the open hatches of our cruiser.  We stared at the bush, at which point, I saw... well, nothing.  Our guides, Benjamin and Christine, took quick turns peering through a pair of binoculars and then skillfully pointed to the exact location of the leopard in the shrubs.  Still, I saw nothing.  Are you sure there's a leopard in there, I asked Benjamin.  It's right there, he said non-chalantly.  Really, I asked again incredulously.  It was about this time that I began to accept another basic truth:  I am the world's worst wildlife spotter.  (Aman is infinitely better.)

Patiently, quietly, we sat until finally I saw it!  A full-grown leopard came creeping out of the shadows of the bush and into the open grassland where a dozen or so gazelles were grazing nearby.  Amazing how unperturbed the leopard was by all of the vehicles and tourists, using the parked cruisers to help sneak up on the gazelles and lie in wait.  The gazelles were much more freaked out by the motorized vehicles and promptly began hightailing out of the area, one-by-one.

Oh, and remember what we said about everyone in East Africa knowing that B&H Photo is the best camera store in the world?  Credit these guys.

Can't blame them though.  What a beautiful creature:

Sadly, there would be no kill that morning.  Right as the leopard honed in on one particularly weak-looking gazelle who, rather than gracefully and powerfully leaping to safer pastures, kind of lagged behind and walked around in a daze, a driver started the engine of his cruiser in an attempt to gain a better vantage point for his guests.  In the process, he rattled the leopard and, with all focus lost, the leopard aborted its attack. This, in turn, led one group of tourists from another cruiser to start cursing the driver of the first cruiser.  Man interfering with nature, fellow tourists flying into fits of safari rage... It was a disappointing finish to a promising start, that's for sure.

Agreeing that it was as good a time as any for breakfast, we drove to the nearby Talek River where Benjamin and Christine laid out a delicious picnic for us as we listened to a chorus of noisy hippos in the river below.  After we ate, we continued on towards the golden plains of the Mara, where we found that love was in the air.  Lions mating, hyenas mating, a ostrich flailing around on the ground in the midst of a mating dance... shameless beasts really.

We also saw a mother cheetah sauntering quietly through the tall grass with her cub. Benjamin explained that a cheetah would rarely, if ever, go after an animal as big as a zebra or topi. (The risk of injury is too great.)  Nevertheless, it was amazing how attentive the larger game became in the cheetahs' presence -- not turning their backs once, as if to say, don't even think about it.  

Eventually, we reached the banks of the Mara and it was time to spend some time observing the wildebeest.  To be sure, the beauty of the great migration does not come from the sum of its parts.  One of the more unfortunate-looking animals in the wild, the wildebeest -- together with maribou stork, warthog, vultures, and hyena -- are considered to be one of the "ugly five" animals of Africa.  Wildebeest are so unsightly, in fact, that someone once said that the animals appear as though they have been constructed with spare parts.  (Ouch.)  As we neared the riverbank, we passed large groups of them. Hundreds (if not thousands) more could be seen scattered around the endless plains with handfuls of zebra and topi interspersed among them.  Most of the game were pretty high up in the plains, far from the water's edge.  There were none crossing the river itself when we arrived, and the only evidence of prior recent crossings was not pretty, i.e., decaying animal carcasses in the water.  There was no shortage of vultures feasting on them too. (We will spare you the graphic photos on this one...)  We had a careful look and then moved downriver to find a large number of hippos and, of course, the dreaded crocodiles. 

What followed was an afternoon of sitting on top of the safari cruiser at the water's edge and waiting patiently to see what the wildebeest were inclined to do.  (Fortunately, someone packed a cooler full of Tusker for the day, which made the task of being patient so much easier.)  

Of those wildebeest that were on the lower plains, nearest to the river's edge, they lined up at times, facing the river and gradually moving towards it.  But ultimately, their numbers were not large enough and they lacked the momentum to make the crossing -- whatever impulse there was to cross the river dissipated the moment that one or two turned away and started to wander off back in the direction of the plains.  Another couple of wildebeest would follow moments later.  And so on, and so forth.  Benjamin explained that they needed the large groups to come down from the high plains and join the crowd before there was any movement across the river.  It was a big commitment to undertake and this was classic herd mentality, or so it seemed.

Based on everything that we saw, Benjamin suspected that the next crossing would probably take another day or two.  Thus, when a big storm appeared to form on the horizon, we packed it up and called it a day, fishtailing the entire way back to camp, along the water-sodden, rut-roads of the Mara plains.

In the end, we may not have seen the wildebeest make the perilous journey across the crocodile-infested Mara River.  This is not uncommon for a lot of safari-goers -- nature is unpredictable, after all.  Nevertheless, hakuna matata, or no worries, for those of you who never saw Disney's The Lion King.  We saw enough to say that we truly witnessed an important juncture in the great migration.  The sheer number of wildebeest and other migratory animals in the Mara -- not to mention their instinctive behavior about crossing the river -- was spectacular to watch.  By far, one of the most phenomenal experiences of the year.