by Jim Donnelly
The characters: Mary: my wife, Deb: our daughter, Jim: our son, Terry: Jim’s wife, Bud: Our Yorkie
Christmas, 1993
Jambo:
That is Swahili for “hello.” Several of our family and friends had a lot of questions as to why Mary and I would want to spend Christmas in Kenya, so we thought we would share some of our experiences to help you better understand our motivation. If you would like to join us on our journey, please take a few minutes to sit back, relax and read on.
We booked the trip on the first of February and throughout the next ten months planned and researched for the journey. It was the toughest trip we ever planned, with so many unique requirements. Hundreds of dollars’ worth of shots and pills., tourist visas, bug spray, five cameras, 51 rolls of film (1993, right) and 8 hours of video tape were just some of the extraordinary requirements.
The flight is a killer, even though we were fortunate enough to be in Business Class. Door to door was 37 hours—20 hours in the air. The saving grace was a day room in a Zurich airport hotel where we caught four hours sleep. The evening flight on a Swissair MD-11 carried primarily cargo. Only the front part of the plane carried passengers. As we were flying over Africa the sky was intensely black. Nowhere in the U.S. or Europe can you fly 60 minutes without seeing any lights on the ground. Southern Egypt had a few tiny villages. The Sudan was without any light as was Ethiopia. Nearing Kenya, a sliver of blood red appeared on the horizon and developed into the most beautiful sunrise imaginable.
We arrived in Nairobi at 7:00 a.m. and were picked up by our tour company, Abercrombie & Kent a.k.a. A & K, Oak Brook, IL for the ride to the hotel. The 15-mile ride took us through the industrial district where the rush hour was in progress. There were thousands of Kenyans on foot and in busses, all dressed in clean, pressed, colorful clothing. In this section you may have thought you were in an industrial section of Mexico—poor housing but ambitious people making a living in a way we could never imagine for ourselves.
After winding through country roads with beautiful walls of flowers—primarily bougainvillea and hibiscus—in the most intense purples and pinks you can imagine, we arrived at the hotel. The Windsor Country Club is luxurious. It is a 130-room hotel in the English Tudor style surrounded by an 18-hole golf course that is built in the middle of a coffee plantation. Our room was most comfortable—particularly for five hours of sleep to adjust to crossing nine time zones and the equator.
Thursday was a day to rest with the most strenuous activity after a nap being a wonderful dinner in the hotel’s Italian restaurant followed by a half hour of playing the slots in the adjoining casino.
Friday we were a bit more refreshed though suffering side effects of our weekly anti-malaria pill. The first a week earlier was tough. This one was brutal. Four more weeks and pills to go.
After breakfast, it was off to the golf course where the first hole was interesting but traditional. The next hole had about 75 Kenyan women, many past middle age, working on the grass on the fairway. Bent over at the waist, they were picking weeds by hand. No tools and backbreaking work for probably a pittance, but in a country that is this poor with no welfare, everyone works. This served as an introduction to Kenyan lifestyle and these people near a large city had a better lifestyle than many we would see in the rural area in the coming days.
The second shot of the next hole had an interesting feature after a dogleg to the right. Now in view we noticed a parade of monkeys crossing in front of the green. The caddies told us it was feeding time for the monkeys who live in the rough and who cross the fairway as a shortcut to the river. We waited. They had the right-of-way. And of course, with the next shot into the rough, you are looking for your ball under an umbrella of 200-300 monkeys swinging from the trees above. Coexistence.
The course continued to the end in some of the most beautiful landscape we have seen. It is positioned in the valley of a river on one side and a coffee plantation on the other. Throughout, the native women worked—on one fairway, sweeping leaves from the fairway with handmade brooms sans handles.
Saturday was shopping day in Nairobi. Two items became essential. A hair dryer and an electric converter for recharging the video battery since the converter we carried has a short. Marys’ hair dryer blew up in my hand when I plugged it in the night before. So, it was off to town with our hotel van and a variety of hotel guests from Europe, the U.S. and Canada, Australia and a group of Americans on holiday from the oil fields of Saudi Arabia.
Downtown on Saturday in a major international city two weeks before Christmas was intriguing. The city is a couple notches below a large Mexican city in amenities but has a few nice hotels. The Hilton, Intercontinental and New Stanley are somewhat focal points surrounded by a variety of shops and stores, mostly owned by Muslims and Indians. The streets are dirty. Beggars are everywhere, some as young as 4 or 5 years old. It is sad yet the Kenyans ask you to not give to them, so they do not become hooked on welfare or “something for nothing.” Some in our group feel threatened. Mary and I are either well-travelled or too naïve to know better.
Our first stop was at the Thorn Tree restaurant in the New Stanley Hotel for a drink. The climate was conducive for a drink—about 78 degrees, very dry and with an intense equator sun. There are no seasons here as we know them, only a rainy season from early April to mid-June and very dry the rest of the year.
The Thorn Tree is famous because prior to mail service in Kenya, people posted messages on the tree and , as a crossroad in the country, other traders or merchants would “check the tree for messages” days or months later as they came through. Today it still has a hundred or so messages attached. Some traditions are hard to break.
The excitement of downtown shopping was at the market. All the stalls were loaded with local goods ranging from baskets to masks, soapstone carvings, wooden animal statues, fruits and vegetables. The intensity of the haggling and hustling made the Mexican markets seem docile.
Saturday evening at the hotel we met our safari group for a meeting along with the tour director, Wendy who explained the next day’s activities. The tour group, A & K pioneered the photographic safaris in Kenya thirty years ago and are considered the Cadillac of the business. Their reputation is impeccable and ae found in the coming days, is well deserved.
Tour Guide Wendy is a South African who was born in Kenya, is in her early fifties and one of the most intelligent, interesting ladies we have come across. She has been with A & K for twelve years, is a widow with two children. Her son is in the British Navy while her daughter lives in Kenya. Last year, Wendy spent 160 days on safari and nine weeks in the U.S. working with past customers, planning custom safaris for groups like artists or members of the Smithsonian Institute. Our challenge, early-on became “stump Wendy.” Whether the subject was history, culture, animals, birds or geography, the lady knows it all—in depth.
Our tour group varied. A family of seven from New Jersey ranged from mom and dad, aunt, two daughters, a son and a future son-in-law. Dad sells imported kitchen paraphernalia like refrigerator magnets. (Must sell a helluva lot of them!) Also a 69 year old mother, her 79 year old friend, and daughter and son-in-law from Lexington, KY; a professor and his wife from the University of Alaska at Fairbanks; a couple from St. Paul, MN, another from Washington D.C., an engineer with his wife and 15 year old daughter from Houston, TX, Mary and I make it 22 in all.
SAFARI!!!
Breakfast at 6:30 Sunday. Be at the front of the hotel at 8:00. We are off on safari.
Four Land Rovers are parked in front of the hotel, loaded with our “gear.” Peter, our driver will be our guide. He is a Kenyan, been with A & K for twenty years and is about fifty years old. His job is to be a first-class detective because the animals are not waiting by the side of the road with an identification sign. He looks for all sort of clues to determine the animal patterns whether it is fresh droppings or overhead bird activities. After twenty years, the humans know animal habits and, of course, vice versa.
We learn during the week that Peter is from a Northern Tribe, lives In Nairobi with his family, but because he has a good job, he still supports family members who are still part of the family tribe. Their occupation is farming.
Our van mates are Roger and Ursula from St. Paul along with Bob and Linda from Washington, D.C. Wendy will join us this morning for our first part of the adventure.
We are off. First leg is on a four lane, major highway. Destination is Aberdare Country Club. Wendy gives us an overview of Kenya, a country about the size of Texas with a population of 25 million people. It is the 20th poorest county in the world. Kenya had been a British colony until 30 years ago (1963) and independent since then. Principal income is from tourism, vegetables, flowers, coffee and tea. Most of the products Kenyans consume are imported as the country has little industry.
Swahili is the native language, a mix of tribal languages and Muslim. English is spoken everywhere there are tourists. When Wendy and Peter talk, it is in Swahili.
The country has a large Muslim population but because they are nomadic like the tribal Kenyans, all get along quite well. We see Muslims running retail shops. They are the merchants of Kenya.
When the four-lane motorway ends we are on a two-lane road that goes through small villages where farming is the only industry. Living conditions are extremely poor. The landscape is beautiful. Rolling mountains appear with a terrain and vegetation almost identical to Hawaii. Flowers are abundant—vivid colors of poinsettia, bougainvillea and flowing bushes. Three hours’ drive time from Nairobi we arrive at the Aberdare Country Club in a beautiful, mountainous area at an 8,000’ elevation. This contrasts to Nairobi at 5,000’ with a climate like Denver during the summer.
It is still an hour until lunch, so we are invited to take a nature walk to the river valley about a mile downhill. We do it—that part was easy. Once in the river valley we see our first animals. A herd of zebra and giraffe. Ostrich and bush babies were all over the place. We spend more than an hour taking pictures, videos and doing everything except asking for autographs of these “tame” animals.
After lunch, we grab our satchels, which A & K provided (now we know why). Our clothes for the evening will be underwear, shirt and sweater. There is no room for our luggage which will be stored overnight, so we carry our satchel onto the bus and take a 30-minute drive to Aberdare National Park and our hotel for the night, “The Ark.”
One of my curiosities about Kenya was how the animals are contained. The monkeys at the Windsor were contained by the small fence surrounding the hotel and golf course. Here at Aberdare, we enter a guard gate, and a heavy, electrified fence surrounds the 300 square mile park.
The Kenyan government, upon attaining independence, developed these parks or reserves throughout the country as did governments of several other African countries including Tanzania, Uganda, Zimbabwe and South Africa.
Entering the Aberdare you are in a dense jungle with steep hills and mountains. The first stop is within a half mile. Black and white Columbus monkeys are in the trees overhead. They look to be between 50 and 75 pounds each and the population in the trees is quite dense. We then drive another three minutes and view The Ark, our hotel for the evening. It is shaped like an ark and will accommodate 100 people. The unique feature is that the people are on the inside and the animals on the outside. We arrive in the parking area, grab our satchels and head for a 300-yard boardwalk over a crevice. The gate locks behind us and we are here until 8:00 the next morning when we will again board the busses.
The rooms are sparse but extremely clean. We arrange cameras and film and go to the bow of the ark where there are three levels of viewing areas overlooking a salt lick. This will be our activity area for the next 17 hours.
The salt lick is on a plateau about 2-miles square and is natural. It is on a primary migratory path for the animals and they stop at the lick and adjoining watering hole. Their diet of vegetation or whatever (more later), lacks salt which they may need in their diet, so this is a great gathering place. When we arrive, a group of 20 bushbuck are at the lick. These are deer-like animals except 2-3 times as large as deer. They are being photographed like crazy. You now realize why the Japanese economy is so great. Tens of thousands of dollars of camera equipment on three decks. First thing when I get home is to buy some Kodak stock.
At 8:00, birds are fed on a tray adjacent to the boardwalk. The birds become an unexpected bonus. They came in a rainbow of beautiful colors with varied shapes and sizes. Beneath us, mongoose picked up scraps dropped by the birds.
Back at the salt lick, the parade continues, as species change in 45-minute or hour intervals. Mary becomes skeptical and thinks it is staged. In the coming hours, the lick is visited by impala and zebra. The lick is floodlit in a way to resembled strong moonlight. Our dinner is scheduled for 7:30 with the promise that if a new species arrives, we will be told. A log in the viewing area records the visits for each day in 1993 and calculates probabilities for seeing various species. Everyone is seated. Soup is served. And the waiter announces, “cape buffalo.” A hundred people grab cameras and evacuate the dining room for a 15-minute photo opportunity. During dessert, we were interrupted by a warthog. After dinner, back to the viewing area followed by a drink in the bar. Here, a genet cat, a leopard-spotted house cat size animal with an 18” broad, pointed tail is being fed outside the bar window by the bar staff. We talked with our waiter to learn that the hotel staff stays in the compound for two weeks and then is off for two weeks. Then Mary spots an elephant. Back to the lick. The drinks can wait. By now it is 11:00 and bedtime, Or sort of.
The bedroom has comfortable beds and an alarm in the room. When a new species is spotted by the “Hunter,” the big Kahuna at The Ark, he rings the bell. So, knowing that, it is off to bed. As we climb into bed, we discover a hot water bottle has been placed between the sheets, warming the bed. Nice touch.
3:20 a.m. A shrill alarm wakes us. We slip on our jeans and off we run, cameras in hand. Another elephant. Our patience is wearing thin. New species Hunter. Not repeats. Nonetheless we watch, photograph it and a water buffalo and get back to the room at 4:00 wondering why so many animals are nocturnal. And we turn off the alarm.
The next morning, I talk with a lady from Liverpool. She spent the entire night on the deck and was there for the 4:30 alarm when a hyena and leopard visited. About half of the group including the two from Richardson slept through it. Earlier, I had photographed the hyena at the bottom of the bush where his bright yellow eyes reflected in the light but in my nervous frenzy could not get the video activated and missed recording him.
After breakfast, back to the bus with our 3 or 4 pieces of dirty clothes and lots of rolls of pictures. Then on to Aberdare Country Club where Peter has the van loaded and ready to go on a 3-1/2-hour drive to Samburu National Reserve in the Northern Territory.
The first two hours included two “pit stops,” where the local tribe installed potties for tourists and surrounded them with stands set up to hawk their wares. More of the same souvenirs but the haggling becomes more intense. The second stop is on the equator where a sign announces the landmark (24,901 miles x 1”) and where directions are painted on a square of concrete. Here, a local, demonstrates how water drains. In your kitchen sink, water drains clockwise in the northern hemisphere. In the southern hemisphere it drains counterclockwise and, on the equator, it drains straight down with no eddy. All of this is demonstrated with a bucket of water, two wooden matchsticks and a can with a sink-like receptacle with a hole in it. After the demonstration, the tribe tries to sell us their wares. We do not bite. The haggling is intense.
We then go through a town of 100,000 people divided by the main road. The road divides the town in half, Muslims on the left and Christians on the right. They mingle together and get along well but at night, return to their “side” of town. Most Kenyans are Roman Catholics and as we drive the countryside there are a lot of private schools run by the Catholics. When we asked why Catholicism dominates in a country with British ties, they explained that Catholicism is the most ceremonial and ritualistic of Christian religions and the one the tribal people could associate with.
A couple of miles further we approach the border to the Northern Territory. It is an armed checkpoint and a bit intimidating. Because we are so close to Somalia and Ethiopia, the Kenyan government requires that Peter “log in” to make sure we are safe. If we do not leave by the time we are supposed to, they will come looking for us. At the stop, I have my window cracked open and the hawkers open the window further and stick in their arms covered with handmade bracelets made of copper, brass and steel. They are quite nice, and Mary, Linda and Ursula are getting hyped. Especially Mary. Peter insists they do not buy from these people as it is too dangerous and starts moving the van with six long, black, bracelet covered arms still in the inside of the van. Mary is frustrated but off we go on one of the bumpiest toads we have ever been on. Dust and potholes with 60 kilometers (36 miles) still to go to get to the lodge. Near the halfway point I pay respect to my dentist since a quick tongue check revealed all my fillings were still intact.
We approach the Samburu National Reserve, so Peter stopped and paid the entrance fee–$9.00 per person per day to allow us on the reserve. The girls made a pit stop and the tribal people from nearby villages came to greet us. Roger, Bob and I were fiddling with our cameras near the van. I looked up and Mary is surrounded by people armed with—you guessed it. Bracelets. This time she did not get away. Peter was perturbed, hauling us back to the van for the rest of the trip. We arrive in Samburu and the animals start appearing right inside the gate, On the savannah type grass are antelopes, dik-dik and impala. We arrive at Samburu Serena Lodge within 20 minutes. We are in time for a late lunch, a trip to our room and a 3:30 lecture by Wendy on the riverbank preparing for our 4:00 game drive. The rooms are in two-bedroom cabins and are very comfortable. Outside, monkeys are in the yard, in the trees and hopping on roofs. We face a mountain and except for the muddy river in front of us, you would swear you were in Phoenix.
Wendy’s lecture is primarily to answer any questions about animals, their eating habits (grass or meat), their society, life span, procreation or anything you could think of. Her wealth of knowledge presented with her crisp British accent makes the time go too fast. Way too much to comprehend. She explains that the lions live in prides and are predators in a matriarchal society. Mothers, grandmothers, aunts and young live together with a single male. He does not necessarily travel with them but stays within a few miles. The young males must leave the pride when they are between three and five years old. Typically, they team with another buddy. They travel alone but stay close to female prides since females are the killers and the males generally come in for the leftover kill. Males are not good hunters as they are too big and not agile enough to kill.
Interestingly, when a new male lion takes over a pride, the first thing he does is to kill any male cubs in the pride. The nursing mother then immediately comes into heat and becomes pregnant with the cub(s) of the new mate.
Elephants are matriarchal too. Pregnancy takes two years and again, the females take care of the babies—one to six but generally two to four in the pride until they are 3 or 4 years old. Then she has other young and the 3-4-year-olds are expected to help care for the babies. The females of the pride all give birth at the same time and all participate in raising the cubs including suckling one another’s. The males stay in the family until they are teenagers, then join up with other teens and males and stay close by but are not part of the family. The matriarch invites a bull into the family to breed with her and the other females and will take a bull as young as 30. However, since they are too rough and rambunctious, she prefers to take a bull in his mid-forties.
Elephants live until 90; eat only grass, but lots of it—about 500 pounds a day.
Tiny dik-dik live as couples for life. If one dies, the other is a loner the rest of his or her life.
Baboons live in a community. Many families all together. They have a male as head of the entire community and at some point, he is challenged by a younger male for the community leadership role. Who leads is decided by a “fight to the death?”
Giraffes have male and female, family type existence and stay and travel together living near tall trees to eat the leaves and near watering holes as they require lots of water. Their blood vessel system in their neck is controlled by a series of valves so when they bend to drink or eat grass, their blood does not rush to their head.
It is now 4:00 and we all get into vans for the afternoon game drive. A mile from the lodge we cross a bridge over the river, look down on the banks and see hundreds of baboons. They are all over the place, having travelled about a half mile upriver from their normal home. They are having a day out enjoying a change of scenery. For us, it is a photo op.
Onto the dirt road, surrounded by desert type grass where we should be able to spot lots of deer family animals. And we do. Hundreds of probably ten different species.
Peter has a keen sense of what is going on and we notice vans from other tour companies follow A & K vans. We cross toward the river and are surrounded by giraffes—magnificent animals of beautiful colors and strong healthy bodies. We are 30 feet away and you can hear them tear leaves from the tree and chew them. We then proceed into the river where a herd of giraffes are crossing the river. The scene is breathtaking. Our van of seven expresses more “oohs” and “aahs” than a small town, 4th of July fireworks celebration.
It is about 5:00 and we head back to the desert and are driving on a dusty road. A half mile away, Peter spots lions. We race the crossing paths—other vans following close behind. Once there, we arrive in time to see three ferocious -looking females, their ribs showing. Peter explains that they are hungry and on the hunt. They pass within three feet of the van. You could hear a pin drop as they continued their hunt.
The preferential kill is generally animals the size of antelope or impala, and while we have seen a lot in the area, they are not as easy to hunt as might first appear. Many have left the area since the rains have been heavy and the grass contains 90% water. They are not getting enough fiber, so they move to the dryer savannah. Fortunately, here at a reserve as large as Samburu, there are areas nearby. The lions will figure this out soon.
So, it is getting dark, and we head back to the lodge. On the way, Peter spots vans to the left so we explore. He stops the van. Mary is in the front seat with Peter and five feet from her open window sits a cheetah. His belly is budging reminding me of Bud, our Yorkie at home, when he overdoses on Mother Hubbard biscuits. While we all focus and photograph the cheetah, Peter calls our attention to the neat pile six feet from the van. Kill remains are there, probably those of a gazelle. All that is left is legs, neatly stacked. The bloated look was caused by the consumed torso and head. The cheetah will stay in his current position all night and have the legs for breakfast before moving on. In a couple of days, he will feed again. But not right now. Focus now is on a good night’s sleep. It is almost 6:30, turning dark and we head back to the lodge. Our minds are as full as the cheetahs’ belly.
At dinner, Wendy announced that vans leave at 6:30 for the morning drive. All 22 in our group are assembled at 6:15. The morning drive is on the opposite side of the river and yields very little. No new species. Breakfast is at 9:30.
The 10:30 bird walk with the young Kenyan boy, Thomas, was very interesting. Since there are 300 bird species in the reserve, we see many types we have never seen before. The Kingfisher is the most beautiful with iridescent purples and a wingspan, open in flight of bright yellows and magenta. Thomas does birdcalls to attract certain types. At one point we all focus cameras and binoculars on the most intense turquoise color in a bush of yellow berries. We summon Thomas. He focusses his high-power binoculars. “Water bottle.” There is even trash in Kenya but not too much.
Sitting around the pool among the monkeys precedes lunch, followed by a dance by the Samburu tribe from the village adjacent to the hotel. It is quite colorful. The it is time for Wendy’s 3:30 lecture prior to the afternoon game drive. Today she gets into her philosophy of hunting and changes our viewpoint. Hunters of “trophies” —the biggest and best of the big five: elephant, lion, rhinos, leopard and Cape buffalo, has gone on for years. But these hunters take only the oldest and biggest animals. These are the ones likely to die soon anyway. For example, during their lifetime, elephants grow six sets of teeth—the last between age 55 and 60. When these are gone, they can no longer chew their food and digest it. As a result, they are starving. The hunters can identify the starving animals nearby by the condition of their droppings. Generally, it consists mainly of whole grass. Wendy believes that it is more merciful to kill these starving animals who require 500 pounds of food a day than leave them to die a slow death of starvation. We don’t disagree.
So, after this sobering lecture it is time for the afternoon drive. Back on the original side of the river, again seeing hundreds of baboons. Within minutes, Peter weaves near the riverbanks where he spots a herd of elephants. The matriarchal tribe consist of about 20 and includes six babies and no bulls. As we have been told earlier by Wendy, the babies stay on the shadow side of the mother, out of the sun, as they are very prone to sunburn, particularly on the ears. Likewise, after a bath in the river or a pond, the elephants cover themselves with dirt—both adult and young, using it as a sunblock. Even the old elephants are likely to burn their skin in the intense African sun.
We spend lots of time with the elephants, then move to the cheetah lounging under a tree, ten feet from our van. From here, Peter senses additional cats and within a half mile, he points to a tree where a leopard sits six feet above our heads. The other tour vans follow until the tree is surrounded by 17 vans—only ours with a head-on view. By now it is getting dark, nearly 6:30 so we go back to the lodge. The sunrise and sunset vary between 6:00 and 6:30 year-round at the equator.
Back at the lodge we decide to have a drink near the river. Soon the hotel staff brings out large containers of raw meat and bones and up from the riverbank lumbers one of three “resident” crocodiles. This one measures 15 feet, and you can hear the intense crunch of the bones before they are swallowed. Three vultures wait nearby for leftovers. There are not any today.
Following a nice dinner, we retire for the night with a reasonable day ahead of us. Next morning, after breakfast, we leave Samburu at 9:30 with lots of great memories. It will be a three-hour drive to Mt. Kenya Safari Club. The drive is through beautiful countryside resembling Hawaii, where the tribes’ people of the region raise cattle. As you look over the horizon of maybe three miles, you will see about 30 villages with small children tending herds of cattle and goats. It is very colorful.
We arrive at Mt. Kenya Safari Club in time for lunch. The best way to describe the place is to say that this is one of Robin Leach’s “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” top ten international resorts of the world. It is well deserved. The grounds are beautiful, loaded with birds in the surrounding hills which are dotted with lakes. It does not get any better.
A rainbow of colors consumes trees, shrubs and flowers. The club was built by William Holden in 1959 in partnership with two investors and Don Hunt of Dallas (more on him in a minute).
After lunch we go to our room which is a beautiful lodge-style room with a huge fireplace. The bathrooms consist of the usual plus a double vanity, bidet and a sunken bathtub. Mary is enamored with Kenya.
We reload cameras and go back to the orphanage on the grounds. It is, as the name implies, an orphanage for animals who were either injured in the wild or who lost their parent(s) when they were young and were unable to take care of themselves. It is also a research and breeding facility for endangered species.
The orphanage was taken over by Stephanie Powers following William Holden’s death and she runs it today (1993) She has a home on the grounds. We have seen her on talk shows at home where she talks about her efforts.
After rehabilitation, the animals are either returned to the wild if it is a safe course and if they can take care of themselves. Otherwise they are transferred to zoos or wildlife parks, the most notable being the Los Angeles Zoo or the International Wildlife Park in Grand Prairie, TX. It is 28 miles from our house, and we have never been there. We feel like real schmucks but will go when we get home. The park in Dallas is owned by Don Hunt of one of the two Hunt families in Dallas.
When we enter the orphanage, we are met by a young Kenyan, Stanley, who is telling us so much about the animals that I videotaped his comments. He then offers Mary some food for the animals, so they will come to her. Soon, Mary looks like Mrs. Noah, surrounded by llama, impala, dik-dik and a dozen other species. She rides on the back of a huge turtle, Speedy, after feeding him cabbage. He is 100 years old with another 200 to go. Stanley ends up being our guide for the visit and we spend an hour and a half with him—45 minutes videotaped. Fascinating. Inside cages we see white rhino, cougar and a leopard and inside a large, fenced area, a beautiful cheetah. Stanley explains that he spends much time inside with the cheetah, cutting grass and caring for him.
He and the rest of the staff live in a dormitory year-round. He has been at Mount Kenya Safari Club five years. The orphanage has certainly been another interesting element of the trip.
We return to our room where there is a nice fire in the fireplace. Dinner is at 7:30 and tonight is the only night of the trip where we must get dressed up. Jackets and ties required. We did not mind—in fact, the whole group cleaned up quite well.
Next morning, we gather at 9:00 for a 15-mile drive to an airstrip in the middle of a savannah. We exit the van and saw two small planes parked nearby. Our time to leave is scheduled for 10:00. About 10:05 we spot a DC-3 coming over the mountains. We take quick pictures and bid our farewell to Peter. He will return to Nairobi and not be with us for the rest of the trip. We will miss him as he has an acute knowledge and instinct.
Now it is boarding time for our Air Kenya flight. The airline has three DC-3’s and three smaller planes. Ours was built in 1941, was in the Spanish Air Force during WWII, later did charter service in Europe and Africa and was cannibalized for parts in the 80’s. In 1991 it was restored and brought back to daily commercial service. The flight attendant, a young Kenyan girl, stood in the front and gave safety instructions. I wished I had videotaped it since Deb could have used it on her Southwest Airlines flights. Such as, “fasten your seat belts for takeoff. as soon as the pilot finishes loading the luggage.” “Hey wait. Where is the copilot?”
The hour and twenty-minute flight to a landing strip in southern Kenya was very smooth and quite interesting. We land in the Masai Mara of Kenya, five miles from the Tanzania border.
The Masai are a nomadic tribe right out of the pages of a 1955 National Geographic. They set up a village in a circle—anywhere from 100 yards to a city block in diameter. They raise livestock and at night bring the livestock to the inside of their village and close off the openings with a fence of brush. This prevents wild animals from entering the village and killing the livestock. Each tribe has three or four families but only one adult male and his several wives, and judging from the size of the village, I presume he is a very tired male. If the land becomes unproductive, the tribe of nomads move on and set up a village somewhere else.
We are desperately trying to get some pictures of and with the Masai as they are slender and beautiful, their clothing very colorful. It is against the law to photograph them, but we ask Wendy to try to arrange it for a fee. Also, Mary has her eye on the beaded bracelets that the Masai sell. Wendy will try.
The drive from the airstrip is very sad as the Masai Mara has been going through drought since March. What should be chest high grass is dried out stubble and the animals are starving. Carcass of water buffalo and wildebeest, who consume a lot of grass, are everywhere in varying stages of decay. Wendy reminds us. This is nature in its’ balancing act. The Kenyans and those familiar with the wildlife are concerned but not nearly as sad as we Americans.
The drive sees a lot of other animals, but they are smaller animals than we have been seeing. They cover a larger area, and many eat bushes and leaves or live near natural springs where there is grass.
We arrive at our home for the next two nights, Siana Springs Tented Camp. Our room is a large tent on a concrete pad covered with a vinyl floor. It has a toilet and shower and reminds me of a relatively sparse hotel room with canvas walls. It reminds Mary of something else and I quickly realize that I may be hearing about the tented camp for several years. In fact, at all the hotels she did a video tape introduction of the hotel, our room and the amenities. The one at the Mt. Kenya Safari Club could win an Academy Award. Today’s may end up on the cutting room floor as she recorded a hostile intro. But hell, we are on safari, so let’s live like it.
The game drive at 4:00 went to an area of the Masai Mara that yielded new species in the antelope family but little else. It was obvious that our driver did not have the skill or the interest that Peter had, and we all wished that Peter were back with us.
We returned to our room which now had electricity. The camp has its own generator and runs it from 5 to 11 p.m. We recharge our video batteries and go to a very nice, pleasant dinner. We return about 10 for the walk to our tent up a dark walkway about two blocks from the dining room. We carry flashlights supplied by A & K. Very useful. We decide to sit on the porch a few minutes and the security guard with a shot gun comes by and Mary decides it may be time to call it a day. Besides, there is a bat hanging from a tree six feet away and hyena are howling in the nearby background. We climb into the bed already heated by the water bottle and settle down for a sleep as quality as any I have had in a Marriott or Hyatt. Mary reluctantly agrees the next morning but says she was spooked by the howls and growls of so many animals outside the canvas walls and insists that I have never heard that outside any Marriott or Hyatt. What about the night…? Why argue?
You have heard of happy campers? Ours was not when she awakened at 5 a.m. the next morning. Christmas eve. We quickly cleaned and dressed, and I sat on the porch looking at the thousands of brilliant stars against the blackest sky I had ever seen. Fifty miles in the direction of the mountains, lightning flashed every 20 seconds or so. We have 5:45 meeting in the dining room with Ian, our hot air balloon pilot. We meet, chug down a quick cup of coffee and join Ian, Linda and Bob along with two single girls from another tour for a five-minute ride in Ian’s Land Rover. The black sky has turned gun metal gray and the stars have disappeared. We cross a hill and in front of us was the huge balloon of orange, blue and green. As we got closer, we saw two Land Rovers, a tractor and 20 Kenyan young men working feverishly to fill the balloon envelope with hot air and get it firm while holding down the basket. It was a beehive of activity with periodic blasts of fire from the burners. Boarding time. The wicker basket is divided by a “T”, one side for Ian and four butane tanks, each holding 12-1/2 gallons of fuel and the other side divided again for three passengers each. Ian explains the rules and landing procedure. Guy wires are released and after several bursts of flame which are hot to your exposed skin, the 20 young Kenyans can no longer hold on and we are now airborne. Floating over Kenya it is still five minutes until sunrise. We are gliding at 100 feet. Animals are beneath us everywhere. Herds of antelope, elephant, wildebeest and water buffalo are among the hundreds of animals awakening. The only noise is the periodic blast of the burner, now familiar to us but annoying to the elephant herd below. The matriarch lets us know with an intense trumpet.
We float for an hour and 20 minutes and cover about 15 kilometers or nine miles. The Land Rovers and a tractor follow. Depending on wind, the ride can go for 30 miles but when the butane tanks are empty, the ride is over. There are no filling stations at 1,000 feet, our maximum elevation.
Ian advises us to take our landing position, crouch down and put our equipment on the floor. He will try to find a smooth spot without a lot of termite mounds, a potential nuisance in Kenya. We coast along at about five feet and then after a bounce or two, Ian pulls three cords to release the hot air from the top of the 30-foot balloon. It goes limp. The wicker basket gently starts leaning backwards and within 10 feet the basket lays flat. I look through the holes in the wicker and see three smiley black faces of the chase crew who have been in pursuit of us in the Land Rover. They secure the basket. We are now in our crouched position, and on our back, looking like John Glenn when he took off in the Freedom spaceship. Ian is already out of the basket and asks for our cameras so he can take our pictures with our cameras in our landed position. After that, the three of us on the bottom get out; we three on top follow. Very simple and civilized when you are serviced by experienced professionals the crew is busily refolding and repacking the balloon and will load the equipment onto the trailer with the tractor. On the hill 100 yards ahead, two of the crew are setting up for breakfast, a ballooning “tradition.” It is now 8:00 a.m. and champagne corks are popping as we sit down on stools to a beautiful breakfast of fresh fruits, pastries, cheeses, two-minute boiled eggs, fresh flowers and lots of champagne. The happy camper; remember her? She announces, “I can live with this.” It was wonderful.
After an hour of leisurely breakfast and chit-chat we return to the Land Rover for a game drive. First stop is a pride of lions, one sitting and one posing for a photo and five or six others behind rocks and bushes. They were busy feasting on last night’s kill, a water buffalo. We did not spot any champagne near their breakfast, but they were enjoying it, nonetheless.
Another group we talked with spotted a pride of 20 lions: a male, five female and 14 cubs. It was a mile away, but we could not find them. With the morning we had, who is complaining?
We are back at the tented camp for lunch and a leisurely afternoon before the afternoon game drive. We are hoping that Wendy has arranged for a visit to the Masai village. No luck. Although the Masai are willing to have us visit and photograph them, the local member of parliament, equivalent to our congressman, is not getting his cut of the money that tourist pay to visit these people (who do not pay taxes)! So, although it is third world, it is all politics, as in the U.S. So, the government outlaw’s photography of these people. We are crushed but Wendy tells us that if we are caught taking pictures she could be banned from the reserve. We respect their law, take no pictures and will buy the book Wendy recommends instead. Wendy, along with the other people we have talked with from the U.S. have visited Masai villages. The ban on visits and photography is a new restriction, in place within the last year.
At the park entrance we are surrounded by Masai women who are selling beaded bracelets. The women are unusual to us. Their earlobes are cut and stretched so they have a hole the size of a quarter in their earlobe (Again, this was written in 1993). Slits around the perimeter of their ears allow them to wear beaded jewelry. Since the tribe is prone to lockjaw, each of them has one of their front teeth knocked out so if they contract the disease, they can still take nourishment by straw. All the women are bald except for the pregnant ones who typically are 15-20 years old. To the male Masai, bald is beautiful and sexy, so when the women are pregnant, they let their hair grow on their head until they’re done nursing their babies. In about three years they will again shave their heads.
These people are beautiful. They have slender bodies and intense, dramatic features. Many of the children play in the fields naked or with only a small cloth around their waist. You see two or three Masai walking between villages, their vivid dress against the gentle rolling landscape. A stark and memorable image.
As we leave the park gate, Mary asks Wendy’s permission to buy a beaded bracelet from a very old woman Mary feels sorry for. Wendy approved.
Wendy explains that the houses in the village are built by the women, the circular brush fence by the men. Each house consists of a big room with beds and a fire pit between the beds to cook food, provide heat and produce smoke to keep the bugs out of the house. The house also contains a small room for newborn sheep and goats where they are kept at night. Otherwise, they will continue to suckle their mother through the night and by morning there will be no sheep or goat milk for the Masai children.
So, we are off to our evening game drive, having asked our driver, Julius, to find us a male lion. We are with three of the children from New Jersey and they have no preference on game they want to see. Within ten minutes, Julius finds a male lion. Wendy estimates that he is nine years old and when we see his face, we can tell he has participated in some good fights. He is missing an eye and his face is loaded with scars. Sheer power, but docile as a pussy cat because he has just eaten.
From there we follow the river and see three more female lions lounging in the sun, but Julius spots a pride further upriver. He moves the Rover closer and before us, a pride of 14 lions: eight of them cubs about a year old. They are working on the morning kill, a mother and baby wildebeest. The baby was consumed easily in the morning; now they are concentrating on the mother. One cub has his head inside the ribcage, ripping off meat. His head, when visible, is covered with bold. This is not a trip to Disneyland. Strictly nature in the wild. The system has worked for centuries. The food chain of meat-eating animals works well. Extreme rains and drought trim herds and population so only the fit survive. Lots to think about out here and so much of what we see relates to the human species too.
By now it is getting dark and we return to the camp. The only animal we have not seen in daytime is the hyena. They are abundant because we keep hearing them near our tent at night. They are perhaps the meanest animal out here, eating either their kill or someone else’s kill or remaining bones. We are told that all the carcasses we see, because of the draught, will be consumed by hyenas. In fact, one afternoon we walked on the plains and Wendy spotted hyena droppings, almost pure white from their large calcium consumption from bones.
We arrive at the camp; clean up and go to the dining room for a Christmas Eve dinner. The staff sings Kenyan Christmas carols which are beautiful. By now we are off to bed at 9:30, dead tired. Mary does not even mention the howls in the background.
Christmas morning, we go to breakfast and begin to split up with our group. Lots of good-byes, exchanging business cards and wishes for a Merry Christmas. We had a nice group of fun people—everyone got along. Of the group, 15 are continuing for a week in Tanzania and South Africa. Five are going to Lamu, a coastal Arabian town. Mary and I are going back to the Windsor to see more of Nairobi. Everyone had only a half day in Nairobi and there is still a lot to see there.
We drive back to the landing strip and out in the distance is our plane, an Air Kenya Twin Otter. It arrives, we load ourselves and our luggage onboard and within 45 minutes we are back in Nairobi. Another half hour and we are at the Windsor for a beautiful, leisurely Christmas afternoon and evening. We are beat.
Carolers are singing Kenyan Christmas carols in the hotel lobby. Beautiful chanting and singing which we videotape. (If you want to hear similar Kenyan style music, listen to Ladysmith Black Mambazo). Then a simple dinner and bedtime.
Sunday is Boxing Day in Kenya, a day when gifts are exchanged in the British tradition. After breakfast we are met by Julius, the A & K driver who, with his van we have hired for the day. In several other places where we have had a lot of sightseeing to cram into a day, we have done the same and it works well. The fee is $100 total and includes all entrance fees. Julius will be our private escort the next nine hours.
We start downtown, stopping at the Nairobi Safari Club, an exclusive hotel. Next, we stop at the A & K office to pick up tickets. It is right downtown, and things are quiet this Sunday morning. Then on to the Karen Blixen museum and gardens. She was the subject of the popular movie, “Out of Africa” about ten years ago. It starred with Meryl Streep and Robert Redford.
Next stop was Giraffe Manor, a private manor house owned by a lady from Baltimore who set up an educational foundation for Kenyan children. The house has four guestrooms at $400 per room per night with the promise that the giraffes will stick their head into your open bedroom window so you can feed them, We go to the feeding area, a circular building on a platform. Here the giraffes stick their necks over the rail to be fed. We are given feed and become instant friends of the diners. They are wonderfully gentle, and their tongues feels like sandpaper. The guide who escorts us shows how to have giraffes kiss you. He demonstrates. We decline. In the park there is a 14-day old baby giraffe. These giraffes are Rothschilds, a smaller breed with a more muted color. Masai giraffes in the south have maple leave type pattern and the Reticulated in the north have deep bronze rectangles divided with stark white lines. The park also has warthogs who are having a great time playing in mud pits, getting ready for their upcoming photo-op.
From here we go to Carnivore, a famous international restaurant we have read about. This type of restaurant is popular in Brazil yet the only one of its kind in Africa. Inside the entrance is a 12-foot firepit with waist-high metal racks. Four-foot skewers hold a variety of meats which are being roasted. We are seated in an outdoor garden and have a nice minestrone soup and a salad, Then, a lazy susan containing about 15 condiments ranging from salsa to mint sauce to plum sauce is brought to the table. A waiter brings out sizzling hot black steel platters. First chicken. Then beef. Next is beef sausage, turkey and lamb chops, pork and ham. Then antelope, giraffe and crocodile. Antelope is dry, the tidbit of crocodile we had was pretty good and the giraffe—after just feeding and petting them—I just could not try it. Mary did and said it was dry like antelope. Fortunately, she did not ask for the neck. Hot pineapple pie with vanilla ice cream for desert rounded out a unique, wonderful experience. The tab. Ten dollars per person.
Then we went on to Nairobi National Park, a 700 square mile reserve on the outskirts of town. This park has an orphanage like Mt. Kenya Safari Club but since Boxing Day is a holiday, the lines are extremely long. Most Kenyans cannot afford to take their children to the big game reserves, but this close-in orphanage allows them to see the sights we have travelled nearly half the world to see. We are very fortunate.
The park has an abundant wildlife including grevy zebras, water buffalo, antelope and giraffes. A family of ostrich—mom, dad and 17 babies are very interesting but will never win the family of the year beauty contest. Mary is getting a bad stomach from her anti-malaria pill, so we decide to leave and notice a swarm of vans about a half mile across the hill. We stop but cannot see what the commotion is about. Then we spot a magnificent male lion under a tree. He must have just eaten. He is tired. He is cleaning himself up and yawning but he is also a ham and cannot resist the attention he is getting as we line up to photograph him. This is the best lion we have seen this trip. After 20 minutes we move onto some beautiful plain type scenes with scores of giraffes, zebra, gazelle and impala against a background of the Nairobi skyline seven miles away. There are not many places in the world where you can experience this. And to beat that, within 30 minutes we are back at our hotel.
Monday is supposed to be a golf day, but we miss our tee time as Mary is not feeling well. Stomach and cold, so we have a leisurely day at the hotel, take a nature walk with a lot of last-minute photos and videos and cap it off with early dinner. We are exhausted. Some in our group were up to 20 years older than us and are on to another photo safari.
Breakfast at normal time next morning and a call from Benson, our A & K driver who says he is ready to take us to the airport. His van weaves through a bustling downtown and into the airport. The flight leaves early, and the sky is clear. At 31,000 feet, Kenya is a lush green while Ethiopia and Southern Sudan are a vast Sahara wasteland with no sign of life. Northern Sudan has neatly divided patches of farmland divided by distant roads. We approach the Nile Valley and ask the flight attendant why we see no sign of life. She checks the captain, and he responds that the people live in mud huts, like igloos, and they blend with the landscape five miles below. Egypt is cloudy as is much of the Mediterranean, but we get a great view of Crete and many of the Greek Islands as ships are visible everywhere crisscrossing the blue sea below. We follow the front of the boot of Italy, but nightfall is turning small coastal cities into glittering dots against the dark coast. Arriving in Zurich 20 minutes ahead of schedule, we experience a glamourous town still decorated with thousands of white Christmas lights. We feel much closer to home.
As we reflect on our experiences these past thirteen days, Kenya, except for the moderate temperatures is a land of extremes. Luxury and pampering; poverty and squalor. Desperation and hope. Euphoria and sadness. Life and death. The surprise with animals was that we saw many babies. Equally disappointing, many of those babies add to the high death count we experienced. This was evident in the Masai Mara. Kenya is a two-class system with a small number of wealthy Kenyans and the vast majority at varying stages of poor—right down to the desperation of wondering where the next meal was coming from. But they shared a common trait. All were happy and smiling and friendly (except for street beggars) and you wonder what our “civilized, #1 county in the world” has done to make our materialistic society so unhappy that they need psychologists and mind altering drugs to make it through the next day. The Kenyans live among the wild animals and have no fear. We live among wild human beings and are afraid to walk the streets at night. Our homes are under attack. This is something to think about. We agree with Wendy when she disclaims that the Somalians are starving, and she confirms our belief that CNN is finding a group to record and beam back to us each night to justify our military presence there. They do not report the good or neutral news and make sure it if fed to us in doses we can handle without having to admit how fortunate and blessed we really are.
As with any other civilization, politicians with their greed screw up an already fragile society. We wish we could have left some badly needed U.S. dollars with the Masai in exchange for their pictures. But since the politicians cannot make money, both the Masai and we are disappointed. It is no different than when environmental laws or tax changes eliminate (steal) jobs from Americans. Only the scale is different.
In reflection, we will be very thankful to have been fortunate enough to have had this experience. We are hopeful that it will make us better world citizens, both among man and beast. We hope many others will take this trip. We look forward to returning.
Wednesday morning in Zurich is typically foggy. Very gray, about 30 degrees. When we went through the first time the grass was green and pansies were in bloom. Now there is a dusting of snow. We explore Zurich on a Gray Line tour. Thursday, we plan to visit Lucerne and the Alps by train, but an early morning rain and heavy winds altered our plans, and the museum and art museum became the chosen destinations. Both were very enjoyable. Zurich is a lovely, elegant city of 360,000 prosperous Swiss.
It is New Year’s Eve, and we are off at 10:00 for a noon flight home. The holiday schedule caused a stop in Geneva and then on to New York. From there a three-hour flight to Dallas where we are surprised to be met by Deb and Bud at DFW. We exchange notes of the past 18 days—Deb is being transferred to Phoenix on March 1. Bud did not sleep well for 18 nights with those awful cats, Axel and Matty continuing to annoy him. Off to bed at 2:00 after seeing in the New Year. Home again.
Have a wonderful and exciting 1994.
Random Closing Thoughts
Rule of thumb is that it takes one day per time zone to adjust your body clock. We crossed nine time zones. It takes eight days to adjust.
Food was generally pretty good; some meals were better than others. Almost always, breakfast was best, lunch was good, and dinner was so -so.
Toughest thing to plan is medicine and camera equipment. You cannot go to the nearest Walgreen in Kenya for what you forgot. Plan medicine for each possible ailment ranging from stomach problems to sunburn. Whatever film or tapes you think you will need, add 50%. We used most of ours.
Take duplicate sets of fresh batteries. With electronics on the camera and video, you are out of business when the batteries go dead.
There is a TV with CNN at the Windsor, three-day old USA Today at Mt. Kenya Safari Club. The USA Today I bought was read by seven people. You still need news in the jungle.
Animals in the reserves are not wild. They are in the wild.
Photo safaris have gone on for 30 years and many of these animals are third or fourth generation who have spent their entire lives near tourist vans. Still, they are in their natural habitat and appear so much healthier (and happier) than zoo animals.
The dik-dik weighs 15 pounds and is often picked up by a large bird, the Malibu Stork who drops it from the air to kill it. They then land and eat the remains. If Malibu Stork were in Dallas, we would have to get Bud a litter box.
The world is getting smaller and the customs and lifestyle of the tribe’s people in the Masai will probably disappear in the next 15-20 years, just as happened to many American Indian tribes
The Kenyan people, be it city dwellers in Nairobi or tribes’ people in the Masai are the friendliest we have ever seen. They are always smiling and happy and try to please. We feel pampered and guilty that we have so much, they, so little, yet they are always in a good mood. What have we lost in our culture?
There are five active glaciers on Mt. Kenya, a mountain over 17,000 feet high, smack-dab on the equator.
We agree that Busch Gardens in Tampa has done an excellent job of staging life in the wild for their animals. It is quite good but on a very tiny scale.
Elephants poop a lot.
Why is it that beer in other countries tastes better than American beer? Tusker is tasty.
None of our hotels have heat or air conditioning but we really do not miss it. The fireplace in the mountains or the hot water bottle do just fine.
After taking anti-malaria pills, we poop a lot.
Allow plenty of time for your visa, shots and other requirements. Your tour agency should tell you what you need but it is up to you to line up the schedule, particularly if you do not live in a metro area.
We thought that some Kenyans who appeared very clean, had B.O. Found out that they rub a leaf from a bush on their hair and it smells like…you guessed it.
The Muslims, Indians and Kenyans get along together just fine. The Muslims and Indians appear to be prosperous.
It would be nice to be with family on Christmas, and then return to Kenya the next day.
Plan exotic trips months in advance. Fellow tourists who changed plans and were indecisive had major disappointments. Eleven months of planning worked perfectly
U.S. birds are not nearly as colorful as those elsewhere in the world.
Wendy, with her passion for animals is a treasure.
When conditions are such that the land cannot support animals, they generally do not have young. The drought in the Masai Mara means most wildebeest are stillborn.
Migrating animals just keep moving. They do not have a home.
There are optional night game drives which we are always too tired to take but they show a lot of nocturnal animals like porcupine, striped hyena and fox.
You do not see a lot of dogs and cats in Kenya and the ones you see are skinny.
Deb would not like working for Air Kenya.
Ethiopia, just to the north, is experiencing a long drought and their tribal people are cutting down trees to survive. Nearly 30 miles of farmland is being turned into desert each year as the Sahara enlarges.
National Geographic magazine and PBS television specials have done an excellent job of educating us on the people, animals, culture and environment of our world.
You will see different animals at different times of the year in different places, depending on weather conditions. In other words, the wild is constantly changing.
As we get older, we do not like marathon vacations but prefer to explore a given area in depth, always with the thought that we may not return.
There is no way to prepare for the logistics of handling several cameras—video, slide, print, regular lens and close-up lens. You develop a rhythm by the second day.
Jim suggested buying a 300 mm lens. Ran out of time but wish I had.
Terry suggested keeping our face, ears and one of our bald spots covered. A & K supplied safari hats and we wore them constantly.
Wendy refers to small animals in the wild as cheetah chow.
We figure we each consumed 30 liters of water on safari.
The umbrellas shaped trees you see in pictures of Africa are shaped that way because giraffes have eaten off the bottom leaves.
Wendy refers to the DC-3 as the vomit comet.
We wonder if Hawaiians didn’t have a wonderful culture too, 100 years ago.
Souvenir stands exist everywhere we have been in the world but were invented in Wisconsin.
We notice no religious influence in the Masai Mara, and they seem to be the least Westernized, purest culture.
Our tour included a $25 membership in the Flying Doctors Society. These English doctors are pilots and will fly to the bush to treat you if you are sick or injured. If you need hospitalization, they fly you to the English Hospital in Nairobi. We notify our insurance carrier before leaving home. Important for international travel, particularly to the third world.
There are no McDonalds in Kenya. Supposedly, Ronald is not satisfied with the quality of the local potatoes.
After weeks of shopping for a camcorder, we are reassured that 80% of Americans on safari also chose the Sony 8mm.
The Olympus Stylus camera Mary bought is great. Handy with an 80 mm zoom lens. Not good for close-ups but excellent for landscapes and super easy to use
We always wanted to do a hot air balloon flight but were reluctant at home because of the overwhelming number of high-power lines. Kenya is the place to do it. Smooth sailing with no transmission lines in sight.
Guides point out that much of Kenya is moving directly into a high-tech world as regards electricity and telephones. They utilize solar power to generate their electricity and have never had a phone system, going directly to cell “without passing go.” Several of our hotels and resorts had solar-heated water.
Coca-Cola is available everywhere.
All hotels had fax numbers, but we did not see a single fax machine. Maybe the numbers come first and the machines in a few years.
The zebra, particularly when they are running over the plains in a herd are one of the most “colorful” species in the wild—no pun intended.
Wendy hosted Bill Gates, Chairman of Microsoft on a tour earlier this year. He sat in the van and read a book the whole time.
If you take a trip like this, take a small notebook for writing notes during the day and a larger one for writing a log from those notes. It really comes in handy when you are being overwhelmed with information that you do not want to forget. It is hard to write an extensive travel log on the back of laundry lists, as I have done. Writing a log helps free your mind making room to comprehend more.
And do make a checklist for this trip, even if you are a frequent traveler. The needs and necessities for this trip are a little different.
At one point, after passing several monuments in Nairobi, we pass a massive canopy and ask the driver, “what is under construction?” “Shell station.”
This tour was very strenuous with little time for relaxation. I am almost certain you could stay busy 18 hours a day if you wanted.
Read at least two good guidebooks before going to a new destination. You will get so much more from the trip. Our first choice is Fodor.
The giant termite mounds in the wild are sometimes 8 feet high and 30 years old They house a colony of millions of termites in addition to birds and other wildlife.
I have read in a few places that historians believe the Garden of Eden was in Kenya. Do not disagree.
When you ask tribespeople at roadside souvenir stand the price of an item, instead of telling you, they write the price on their arm with a ball point pen. It is hard to read the blue ink on a dark brown background.
Instead of taking 24 and 36 exposure film, take 12’s of 400 ASA and 1000 ASA. It is bulkier but you are not stuck with it in the camera when the sun gets bright.
Not once on this trip did, we feel overcharged or cheated. These are honest people.
Baby giraffes have the toughest entry into the world of any species. Mother delivers standing up. Ouch.
Rush Limbaugh is not popular in Kenya. Oprah Winfrey is on at 9:30 am Monday through Friday at the Windsor.
Jim remarked before the trip that Mary and I have travelled a lot but rarely to rural areas. Almost always, it has been to big cities.
CNN reports Cowboys win, Giants lose, and Cowboys are in first place. (1993) Great to be in “the wild.”
On drive chats with our van mates we agree Conte Nast Traveler is our favorite travel publication.
It takes patience to photograph animals. They do not pose.
All hotel housekeepers are male.
International flights have a TV screen with maps and flight information, speed, altitude, temperature, ETA, current time, time to land. Makes trip go faster and makes it much easier to spot landmarks.
A baby giraffe in the Masai was a day old. Still had umbilical cord hanging from its belly.
Hardly any hotel rooms have keys. At the tented camp we use a zipper to gain access. When we retire for the night, instead of Mary saying, “lock the door.” She says, “the fly is down.”
Dirty clothes take less room than clean but voids in the suitcase are filed with souvenirs. Most popular are soapstone carvings of animals and wood carvings of salad forks with animals on the handle. They make great gifts.
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At this point I ran out of laundry lists with a clean back, so that is all we can report. Thank you for letting us share our experience with you. We hope that you picked up some ideas that will motivate you to start planning your “trip of a lifetime.” You will be so glad you did.
If you want to see the photographic results of the trip, please visit the “International: Kenya” section of our website. The code, Kenya20 at checkout will provide you a 20% discount on any photos you order.