Continued: (Part 3)

At about 2pm we gathered ourselves together and Dixon drove us to the village on Lake Baringo where we would find the boat and guide. There was quite a crowd of onlookers as we arrived, many school children and sundry others who were fascinated by these large white bodies scrambling onto the boat. In this village the Kalenjin tribe communally owns several boats that are used for both fishing and tourist excursions to see the fish eagles dive for fish. We met Simon, our guide for the afternoon, and Ndisha who would run the boat. This boat was like a very long row boat, with 5 benches across. Midst a  large crowd of bystanders watching with fascination, Ndisha slowly guided it out into the lake. We worked our way around the marshy areas of the shore as Simon pointed out various water birds. Lying nearby, basking in the sun, was a large crocodile who Simon assured us was full of fish and would not bother us. Abby was not convinced and scooted toward the center of the bench as Ndisha edged closer so we could get a really good look at this crocodile. It was a little too close for the crocodile, and he left in a huff with a great splash that unnerved the rest of us.

Next we visited a hippo family. Simon explained that we could not get too close as the adult hippos would be very protective of their babies. There was a father, mother, and three little hippos in a quiet estuary off the main body of the lake. To our amazement there was a native fisherman standing in the water not 20 yards from the hippos, obviously unconcerned by the proximity of the happy hippo family. We cautiously edged our way closer to see them while Ashleigh and Abby sat stonefaced and terrified. The only really nervous moment was when Father Hippo thought we had encroached upon his territory and bellered at us while pretending to charge. We were assured by our guide that this was only a scare tactic. It certainly worked for Ashleigh and Abby. They spend the next 20 minutes in psychic agony as the rest of us photographed and observed this little familial scene.

We then headed for the islands in the middle of the lake. The first one we came to was owned by a Maasai family, a man with 3 wives and 20 children. The island had been in his family for many generations, and they survived on fishing alone, using fish to barter for the necessities of life from other tribes in the area. Close by was another Maasai island, this one with a village and a larger population of many families. Several hundred years ago the Maasai had been a nomadic people that came from north of Kenya and traveled down the Rift Valley. As they slowly made their way south, some families decided to stay on these islands and so have been there a very long time, becoming fishermen instead of cattle herders. En route to this island we came across a yound man fishing in his lightweight balsawood boat, and he sold us a couple of fish. As he spoke Swahili with Simon, it looked like absentmindedly, he broke off some of the balsawood from his boat with his teeth and then shoved a piece of it in each fish's tummy. Catching a glimpse of his teeth, it was no mystery as to why they were broken and discolored! Bidding us a friendly farewell the fisherman paddled off, his paddles being two large flat rocks, and we started our search for the fish eagles. Simon, of course, was the first to spot one, high atop a tree on the Maasai island. Whistling to the bird to make eye contact, Simon held the fish high in the air. Once he had established that with the bird he flung the wood-stuffed (finally figured out the purpose for that, because the fish floated on top of the water) fish onto the lake and the fisheagle came swooshing down from his perch on the top branch and snagged the fish in one swoop before returning to the tree. Before he dug into his "treat" he managed a squawky "thank you" in bird talk to Simon. We were impressed.

Continuing on to the village, now about 4pm, we managed to bring the boat close enough to shore to disembark. With the aid of a few excited 10 year-old Maasai boys, we climbed out of the boat and hiked up to the village together. The boys spoke understandable English, and filled us in on themselves as we walked: names, ages, families, etc. They were very friendly and so clustered around us that we each looked like a walking clump of bodies! Anxious to show us their village, they directed us to a group of about 50 small huts. These rondavels, as they are called, are round little huts made of sticks covered with mud and topped with thatch roofs. Joseph, one of the boys attached to me, insisted that I come and see his house. I had to duck my head to fit through the low doorway, and upon entering the hut saw that it was basically one room, although somewhat divided with a blanket hanging across the middle of it. It was rather crowded in there with me and my attached retinue, but such great excitement as they showed me "around" the 10' x 10' room that was home to at least 6 people. He wanted to show me where he slept, and gleefully pulled aside the blanket which separated living and sleeping areas to reveal one large double bed frame with mattress, no bedding, where I assume everyone slept. In typical 6 year old fashion his brother bounced up and down on the mattress showing off the wonderful bed! The floor of the hut was dirt, but in spite of the primitiveness of it all felt very homey. Dinner was cooking on an open fire in one corner (some kind of soupy looking thing in a pot) and there was a pointy "cathedral" ceiling that gave some spaciousness to the room. With beaming faces they all looked at me expectantly for approvel, and as I complimented them on their home it struck  me how simple life really is. I mean, what do you really need besides a comfortable bed, good food to eat, and people around who love you? There were no adults in the house while I was there (I later met the mother outside), but the feeling I had after the house tour was one of contentment.. My only regret while in the village was that we had not brought some candy or penss the two things the children asked from us. I was new at this, and did not realize that this must be some sort of protocol for village visiting. The children seemed rather philosophical about it though, and assured us they would wait until the next time we came.

While I was having my experience, Dick and the kids were having ones of their own. Jake spent the whole time with a 13year old who talked to him about the school he attended, and showed him around other parts of the village.

All this time, for about 30 minutes, Simon was looking a little anxious as the wind had come up and he casually suggested that we had better start back for the boat. By the time we clambered back on board our little boat and pushed away from the shore, dark clouds were gathering and the wind was whipping up the chocolatey waves. Looking across the lake I realized that we had a very long way to go, especially since it had taken us over an hour to get there in calm weather. Yikes!

Then ensued the longest two hours of my life. Lightening flashed repeatedly in the dark skies in every direction. No life jackets. No oars. Only the little outboard motor that protested the continual swamping with water, but which was being played like a fine instrument by Ndisha as he tried to keep the motor alive. Simon sat up on the bow looking intense, watching the distant shoreline with considerable focus, as if willing it to be 10 miles closer. I prayed. As we sputtered our way out into the middle of the lake with waves high enough to swamp the boat, I knew that Paige was right. We were going to end our lives in Africa. I saw five options:
1. We would be struck by lightening and die.
2. We would be munched by hippos and die.
3. We would be crunched by crocodiles and die.
4. The boat would overturn and we would drown in the murky water.
5. The boat would overturn and we would swim to shore, drinking the bacteria filled water as we went, and thus ultimately dying a slow and painful death of bacterial disease.

Looking around at the others I realized that I was the only one having a total anxiety attack, but there was definitely apprehension in the air, Ashleigh and Abby especially. For Dick and Jake it was just an adventure, and Brooke told me later that it was only number 5 on the list that had her concerned. Well, prayers even of the unjust are answered and we finally reached the other side of the lake. As I gratefully found firm footing on solid ground and parted from the vessel of death, I decided that it was one of those experiences that you like to have HAD. 

And so ended our first two days in Africa.

Continued -- part 2

During dinner Dixon explained that it was necessary to be in our tents by around 8:30pm because that was when the hippos came out of the lake and into our camp to feed on the grass there. We thought he was joking, but he pointed to the short grass in the area and commented that no lawnmowers were used to cut the grass. I should have tried this bedtime warning years ago because it was so effective. By 7pm all the kids(and we as well) were zipped in for the night. Dixon also mentioned that it was not a good idea to use flashlights as the hippos became startled by light, and evidently one did not want to startle hippos. It had been a tiring day with all the traveling so we all fell asleep within the hour. Since I hadn't heard any hippo noises by the time we fell asleep I figured that Dixon must just be having a little fun with us, but at around 2:30am I was awakened by a heavy sucking sound, sort of like someone fat getting out of the bathtub. These noises were followed by loud munching and crunching sounds right next to the tent I was sleeping in. I jumped out of bed and peered through the screen windo, and although I could only see vague shapes (it was VERY dark) I did see one large lump about 10 feet from the door of the tent. I quietly woke Dick and the two of us stared into the darkness trying to make out how many were there. We figured that there had to be at least 15 wandering around our camp. The munching noises were punctuated with loud snorts/grunts, and the odor I smelled remined me of artichokes cooking.  Needless to say we did not sleep much for the rest of the night. Prior to coming to Africa I had been warned that the most dangerous animal we would encounter would be hippos, because they ran quite fast and could chomp a person in half with one bite. I hoped that we had raised children intelligent enough to remain in THEIR tents. The hippos ate for about 3 hours and then one by one cannon-balled (that's what it sounded like) back into the lake. It sounded as though they definitely communicated with each other by snorts and grunts, and I could imagine one of them saying to the other, "I just can't eat another bite so I'm going back in".

Next morning at the breakfast table we chattered away, sharing our hippo-viewing experiences with each other. Apparently we were all lying there awake on our cots, petrified to make any noise or use our flashlights, and incredulous at what was happening just outside our tents.

Lake Bogoria

At around 9am we climbed into the van for our first wildlife excursion. Dixon took us to another nearby lake, Lake Bogoria, which is a salt water lake famous for its flamingoes. I have always thought flamingoes as being so graceful and remembered seeing a large flock of them at the San Diego Zoo that was quite impressive, but nothing prepared me for what we were about to see. As the lake and its whole shoreline came into view (this lake was blue) you could see a ring of pink around the entire lake, and it was a big lake. I do not exaggerate when I say that there were over two million flamingoes. We marveled and said to each other that few people would believe when we tried to describe it later on. The lake was fed by hot springs and so it is warm, and these birds love to feed on the algae in this salt water. It is the algae that turns their feathers such a delicate shade of pink. Baby flamingoes are born white, and if flamingoes feed on different plant food they return to white as well. Jake walked along the shoreline picking up the most beautiful pink and red feathers that had been shed, and soon we were all making a feather collection. The sheer numbers of all these exquisite birds standing on those dainty little legs was overwhelming and a sight we will not ever forget.

From there we proceeded to the hot springs, similar to the ones in Yellowstone Park.There were two buses of school children there on a morning excursion to see the lake and "cook" their lunches of eggs and corn in the hot springs. As we approached the springs ourselves we were welcomed loudly by shouts of "jambo!" (hello) and happy smiling faces. I had the video cameral with me, which fascinated them, so I took pictures of several of the children in order to play it back to them on the little screen of the camera. You should have heard their squeals of delight and shrieks of laughter as they recongnized themselves in the video. I was absolutely mobbed by little green-sweatered children, and Dick later said that a video of that would have been better!

We then returned to camp for lunch, cold showers (felt pretty good!) and a short rest before we took our afternoon excursion, a boat ride on Lake Baringo.
(to be continued)

Early African Experiences

Since many people always want to know WHY we go to Africa (and how we decided to go there in the first place) I have decided to share some of the journal that I wrote on that first trip.

To preface, when Dick retired from Michigan National Bank in late 1997 I decided that it would be a great thing for the two of us to take a 24 day cruise, Athens to Cape Town. This would be a time when we could regroup and think about what we were going to do in retirement. We still had a 15 year old, Abigail, at home, though the other 7 children were pretty much on their own. Little did we know what a life changing experience that cruise would be. When we left the ship in Cape Town, I surveyed the situation there (Cape Town is fabulous) and told Dick, "I could LIVE here!!".  To make a long story short we returned to Birmingham, Michigan, I leased our home for 2 years, sold our car and by August 4 we were on our way to Europe and Africa for a year accompanied by our four youngest children -- Abigail,age 15, Jake, age 18, Ashleigh, age 21 and Brooke, age 23. I kept a journal of sorts, and so following is an exerpt from it:

"As Wednesday approached we were all getting pretty excited. This would be the day that we met Brooke and Jake at the Zurich airport (Ashleigh and Abigail were already with us) and then continued on together on a Swissair flight for Nairobi. We arrived into Zurich at about 4pm, turned in the car and went to greet Brooke and Jake. Thankfully they arrived on schedule so that we didn't have any worries about connecting with our Nairobi flight. Our only moment of anxiety wa when they strip searched Jake because as he passed through security they found a couple of spent shotgun shells in his pocket. As he stood in the curtained-off booth with a security guard, the rest of us stood around wondering what the heck he could have in his pocket. Turns out a friend had given them to him in California, for what reason I know not, but we were immensely relieved when he was released to continue the journey with us. After a quick bite to eat at an airport restaurant, joyous to be reunited, we proceeded to our Swissair flight and soon we were winging our way to Africa.

Brooke was merciless for the first couple of hours, nagging away at me about how dangerous my plan was, about the disease that we would encounter, about the street crime and violence prevalent everywhere. She almost had me believing her.

What a surprise when we arrived at the Nairobi airport and were not instantly raped, mugged and otherwise assaulted. Instead we passed through customs in an orderly fashion, obtained our visas for Kenya and were met by the safari company. Just outside the customs area was a very pleasant looking Kenyan holding a large sign, "Martha and family". He introduced himself as Dixon, our driver and guide for the next 9 days, and directed us to the waiting safari van. As we turned the corner outside of the main terminal we viewed our first wildlife -- directly across the field were several giraffe grazing. The kids were incredulous. After a quick visit to the office in Nairobi, we drove off toward Lake Baringo (and our campsite) in the packed-to-the-gills safari van.

                                 The Van!  Dominique and Dixon -- Jake, Abby, Ashleigh, Dick, Brooke
It was a long drive, about 4 hours, but absolutely fascinating as we passed villages and settlements along the way. We climbed to 8000 feet where we stopped for a spectacular view of the Great Rift Valley. This is a very long valley running the length of several countries in Africa, and is where the famed wildebeest migration takes place. Since there are no rivers in this highland area the tribe that lives there uses donkeys to carry water back and forth. We saw many donkey carts carting huge jugs of water up and down to irrigate their fields. Everywhere we drove that day we were impressed with the amount of walking people do here. In China there were a lot of walkers, but also a lot of bicycles. Not so here, and most everybody is barefooted. Since they are the bearers of burdens most everybody had something balanced on their heads, I assume leaving their hands free for other activities. It was incredible to realize how physical the lives are here, carrying everything from babies to wood beams, and walking long distances through rough and grassy terrain. We descended to the valley where Lake Baringo is located, along with several other lakes dotting the Rift Valley.

At the lookout I had been besieged by "salesmen" and conned into buying a soapstone ashtray, an unlikely object for me! But it had a wonderful hand scratched map of the Rift Valley on other side, and everything that we had passed on the road was hand etched onto the stone, including the two satellite stations. Not long after the summit we passed the Equator demarcation thus putting us north of it for the next few days. Kenya sits smack dab in the center of the globe.

Our first stop was at a grocery store in Nakuru (the main city of the Rift Valley in Kenya) to purchase some water and miscellany to carry us through the first part of the safari. All of our food was being provided by the tour, but the extras like water, soda pop and napkins (!) were not. The grocery store itself was a sight. First of all it was fairly large, but the aisles were extremely narrow. There were literally hundreds of people milling around in and out of the store. Dick said it reminded him of the stories of the Wild West where everybody sort of hung out in town. At the entrance of the store I picked up a shopping cart, about the size of a child's toy, and began to push it through the aisles. After running over countless toes and bumping into people I abandoned the cart and decided that the carry basket everyone else was using was probably a better way to go. The shelves and item on the shelves were covered in a thick layer of dust. It was definitely not Trader Joe's, and all I can say is that the whole grocery shopping experience as pretty chaotic.

After loading up our purchases we continued on to camp, about another two hour drive, where we were to have lunch prepared by our cook for the safari, Dominique. Passing through many little villages with rondavels (small mud huts with thatched roofs) we finally arrived at Camp Roberts, our home for the next two nights. This camp is owned by a British woman, and the camping sites are rather primitive. No hot water, pit toilets, and you camp in small two-man tents pitched about 100 yards from the Lake Baringo shoreline. As we pulled into the camp our first sight was the small "dining" table, fully set with silverware and plates on a plastic lace tablecloth. On a small table nearby were three large cooking pots emanating heavenly food smells. Lunch that day was tilapia, hot rice and a delicious vegetable sauce to pour over everything. It was so good. One of my last apprehensions of our journey disappeared as it seemed the food would be tasy and appropriate for all of us --- vegetarian, diabetic and picky Abby included. Dominique managed this magic while sitting on a camp stool in front of the small open fire pit. With pots precariously positioned on rocks, he managed to provide us with a wonderful variety of foods for breakfast, lunch and dinner each day.

                                               Jake, Abby, Ashleigh and Dick at lunch
After lunch we inspected the tents and set up our belongings for the next couple of days. In each tent were two cots with foam mattresses and one sheet per cot. Period. They closed up fairly bug-tight with several zippers, so that was reassuring. Dixon informed us that the remainder of the day would be a chance to relax and rest from our overnight flight. We slept a little, explored the campground and tended to mundane activities like the washing of our clothes. Jake had a suitcase full of dirty clothes (surprise, surprise) and I had a few things to wash for Dick and myself. When Jake indicated that he didn't know how to go about washing clothes in a washbasin I offered to show him, and for me this turned out to be the highlight of the day. As we stood side by side at that outdoor sink, scrubbing away, we chatted and laughed and offered each other encouragement as we battled the stains. Four months ago that would have been unthinkable since we had been estranged, and I was very grateful that afternoon for how far we had come in normalizing our relationship.

Back to the wash. We had been challenged by washing our clothes for the last couple of months in Europe. Obviously our European experiences with wash day were only practice sessions for coping with dirty clothes in Africa. The huge tub in which Jake and I were scrubbing away had one faucet from which streamed only cold water. As we worked there I noticed that the water was quite brown and thought to myself that Jake's clothes were really dirty. Mid way through I was informed by Dominique that this water was pumped directly from the lake, and since Lake Baringo is described in the tourist brochures as "chocolate" (I called it dirty brown) it is doubtful how clean our clothes were getting. However we wrung them out and hung them to dry on the bushes, trees and tent poles. It left me wondering if we had finally bottomed out on wash day experiences.
(to be continued)

Something to smile about

I received this email and just have to share..... Many of the animals and birds we see in Africa on every trip. But they've never (click > )TALKED to me.  Put a smile on your face :)

South African Penguins

For a short time our family lived in Simon's Town, a charming seaside village on the Atlantic ocean about 45 minutes from Cape Town. We stayed in a hotel apartment (Dick and I and four of our children) and enjoyed the access to many sightseeing opportunities in the Western Cape.

One delightful surprise was just a few miles down the road from our hotel. Boulder's Beach is a swimming beach with unlikely swimming companions -- penguins! Formerly named Jackass Penguins (because of their braying) they are now named South African Penguins. At the time that we were living in Simon's Town (1998) the penguins just hung out at the beach and in the water, with no barrier between the swimmers and the penguins. As a matter of fact, you could swim with the penguins. Boulder's Beach is named appropriately because there are many large boulders along the beach and out in the water. Penguins sunned themselves on the boulders, swam in the calm waters and waddled back and forth along the beach. Since penguins moult, those in that process just stood still and looked raggedy. Penguin-watching is a great pastime, and it was fun to see mother penguins feeding their young.

As we have returned to South Africa many times since 1998, we always visit our friends the penguins.  However in the intervening years an elaborate wooden walkway has been built to keep the penguins sanctuary separate from the many visitors that now come to view the birds. There is an information center with maps and statistics about this penguin colony.

Kirstenbosch Gardens

One of my favorite places to visit while in Cape Town is the Kirstenbosch Gardens. This is one of the greatest botanical gardens in the world. The cultivated garden area, covering  almost 90 acres in a beautiful residential neighborhood,  sits at the foot of the eastern slopes of Table Mountain offering a splendid view of the famous mountain. The gardens were established in 1913 to promote, conserve and display the rich and diverse flora of southern Africa. It was the first botanic garden in the world to be devoted to a country's indigenous plants, and the garden is renowned for the Cape flora particularly

There are several themed gardens within Kirstenbosch, but I especially love the protea garden which is most magnificent in the early spring and fall. It is a bit of a hike (20 minutes) from the entrance, but worth every step.

The protea flower is a variety of fynbos, a natural vegetation that occurs in a small belt of the Western Cape of South Africa. Fynbos thrives in nutritionally poor soils, frequent winds, dry and hot summers, and frequent fires (many of their seeds require fire or smoke in order to germinate). There are 4 groups of fynbos: proteas, ericas, restios, and geophytes. Proteas are the tall shrubs with big, feathery or leathery leaves and impressive blooms.

The King Protea is the national flower of South Africa.

                                                            KING PROTEA

Leopards in Southern Africa

When our family first went to Africa in 1998 and we were on safari, we very much wanted to see a leopard in the wild.We saw lots of wildlife, many cats, but no leopards. We spent two weeks on safari in Kenya and Tanzania, then a week in Zimbabwe, and then some time in the Kwa-Zulu Natal in South Africa, but we had to wait until we were in Kruger National Park several months later before we finally viewed a leopard. But what a viewing! It was a week before we were due to return to the USA, and we were staying in the small bush camp, Biyamiti. On our last night in camp we signed up for a night drive with Van Roy, a particularly personable and knowledgeable guide. It was a fairly ordinary game drive until we turned a bend and began driving through a field of long grass. Ahead of us lay a small meadow of shorter bush grasses, and strolling casually along the path that cut through the bush was a  female leopard with her two cubs. Also present was a male leopard, which is unusual to see with that grouping. As with all sightings, you quietly observe but can hardly believe your eyes with what you are seeing..... The group of them lazed around in the grass, walked by our vehicle a couple of times and we were able to get great pictures before the darkening sky overcame us and they disappeared into the bush. As we ticked off  "leopard" on our list we felt victorious to have finally spent a few minutes of time with a group of those beautiful cats. Click on > leopard.

Since that time we have been on many, many safaris in Kenya, Botswana and South Africa, and have been fortunate to see leopards lazing on tree limbs, stalking through the bush, dragging kills up a tree, walking alongside the road, or taking naps on the asphalt in the hot sun. We don't count how many anymore, but we never tire of viewing leopards........

                                         Chitabe Lediba Safari Camp in Botswana 2007