Category Archives: Kenya

Kenya: the Big 5, flamingos and night safari

22 April 2022 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

On the darkest of nights, little before midnight, a rusty white old van in a cloud of dust stopped in front of a camp, somewhere in Amboseli National Park. A light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. One man and 5 women stepped off the white van, dusting off their clothes with slow tired gestures. Richard, our driver, three Chinese young women, a Spanish woman and myself. Our unplanned night safari was over and so was our last drop of energy. We made it to the camp and we were all safe. We briefly saluted our new hosts and then let silence fill back the space. Miriam, the Spanish woman and I followed one of the men and his light on a small alley drawn on the ground by of stones painted in white, among lines of dark large tents. It was a deep dark.

Since all around I couldn’t see anything, I looked up, with no expectation. I stopped. From one side to the other of the sky, a thick white line was cutting the dark in two like a rainbow of stars. The Milky Way itself in its complete beauty, the way I could never even imagine it.

The Maasai Village

5am, Maasai Mara.

Kenya was turning even myself into a morning person. For the best of reasons: that morning we went to visit our neighbours in the Maasai village nearby the camp. As I walked the dusty road in that chilly morning (yes, mornings in Africa are damn cold), I saw through the rays of the early sun three young women, covered in red shuka cloth, the “African blanket”, carrying on their heads large plastic barrels.

– They are lucky in this village, the river is just 2km away, don’t have to carry water for long distance, the guy leading us said. I continued to watch those women until they became smaller and smaller.

My unnecessary long warm shower in the camp the evening before felt like a waste I now felt ashamed of, while the low pressure water suddenly seemed a luxury. Just a few steps away from the village, our “urban” morning routines seemed here, in the savannah, bad habits from a different world, a world of too much waste.

I always knew water is precious. I read about it, watched tv about it. But never actually faced this reality.

Once at the gate, the welcoming ritual was performed by a group of men, singing and jumping high off the ground with their tall and slender silhouettes wrapped in traditional red blankets. The higher the jump, the better the prestige of the performer, we were told. After this we became their guests and we were invited inside. Small houses made of clay were built on the ground, all in the same shape, with round corners and tiny windows.

– We only stay in one place like this for 5 years. This is how long the termites need to destroy the houses. Then we move some other place and build another village like this from the ground. Women are the ones that build the houses…

Kenya, Maasai Mara, Maasai village — Maasai village. The heard in kept inside the village because of predators

Every one of us was after invited to enter the houses. I went alone and was privileged to have the son of the tribe’s chief as my host. I followed him through a small opening serving as an entrance, lowering my head to fit it. For the next few seconds I couldn’t see anything. It was completely dark inside. I followed his voice in the dark until I saw a glimpse of light in front. It was a fire made on the ground, in the middle of a room. A woman was busy cleaning a few pots gathered around that fire. She remained silent as we took a sit down, on small wooden chairs. I now started to see better around but the heavy smoke inside made it difficult to breathe and my eyes were hurting. I struggled to keep this for me and be a polite guest. The young woman seemed disturbed by my visit. I would have been the same in her place.

My host started talking, presenting the house, offering information about the way they live. I felt he was somehow uncomfortable with this situation of having a stranger curious about his way of living. For the money that the tourists bring, the locals have to perform this show but this doesn’t meat they feel comfortable doing it.

The woman remained quiet, ignoring my presence. I was feeling uncomfortable with this situation as well, while I was still struggling with that smoke.

– ….and the cow we keep it here… he smiled hesitant and showed me the door in the back.

– So we have fresh milk every morning, this is our fridge, he joked with a shy smile.

– Hmm, like my grandma, I said. My remark made him stop and look back with surprise. Suddenly we reached a common ground and we didn’t felt so different anymore.

I told him how my grandparents lived back in the days, having seven kids and keeping animals in the stable build close to the house. Next we spoke about how people process milk, conserve the meat without freezing it or use plants for medical purposes. We both knew that mint was good for stomach pains and we laughed abut this. It was interesting to exchange these information. His voice became different, relaxed and he was smiling.

I asked about the Maasai tradition involving men that turn 18 years old and need to have their initiation in life: they leave the community and go live for 3 years in the wild. They learn how to stay alive in the savannah and most of all to respect the greatest teacher: nature. The final exam is to hunt a lion and is performed the Maasai way, not waiting like a coward with a gun in a jeep to shoot the animal in the back, from a long distance. The skin of the lion is then part of the ceremony back in the village.

An ancient tradition that is rarely kept nowadays, after the cowards with guns have succeeded to reduce the lions population too close to extinction.

So the Maasai are finding themselves forced to adapt to the new reality.

I completely forgot about the smoke and the pain in my eyes and when we finally came out of the house, laughing and chatting, my Spanish friends from the camp looked fully surprised and as soon as we left the village they were curious to find out more about my visit inside the house.

-I want to offer you something special. It’s a good price, my host said, taking me aside, before leaving the village.

– Is it a…

– A lion fang, yes…

– You want to see me behind bars? I joked, with the beautiful piece in my hand. I knew that in Kenya, wearing, owning, buying or selling any piece of wildlife material is is strongly prohibited and punished. – Look, this is fantastic but I can’t have it, it belongs to only one owner – the lion. But thank you, I’m deeply honoured.

In reality I was shocked…

Before leaving the village, the Maasai taught us their main survival skill: how to make fire in the wild out of 2 pieces of wood and a little dry grass. Rubbing the dry wood until the ash comes out and then blow it on the dry grass till fire is born seemed easy but I know looking is not equal to doing and my chances of surviving in the wild are below 0.

– It’s marketing…

Richard, our driver and guide cut down my enthusiasm about the lion’s fang necklace. Maybe he was right. But one thing that I know for sure is that any other necklace bone I saw after, during the trip to Kenya, and I’ve seen many in a lot of places, didn’t even got closer to the one I hold in my hand in that village.

– Maybe, just marketing… I answered him, playing with the new copper bracelet on my hand and the new camel bone necklace on my neck. Souvenirs from the tribe’s chief son.

The Maasai market

In an improvised flea market outside the village, a bunch of women were selling hand made crafts: Maasai jewelries, small wooden sculptures and Maasai war masks. I bought a mask and two Maasai warriors chopped in ebony wood and painted in red and white. They will always remember me of the two unreal silhouettes of the Maasai warriors I first saw when we entered Maasai Mara, in the first day. Like two guardians of the wild, an unforgettable fantastic image!

Leaving Mara

The last time I touched the ground of Maara was in an improvised market. A few Maasai women were trying to sell their products to the tourists in the cars stopped in front of a gate, before exit. I liked a red bracelet and tried to negotiate the price…

– You are killing mama Maasai! the lady said. She was wearing all the colours of the world plus a beautiful smile. Who could resist such a seller. I left the car to see more of her products. I left with the red bracelet on my hand, bought for the priced she asked, waving my hand from the window as our van was leaving.

– The road took us through the Massai people territories, guarded by gates and barriers that opened each time Richard was paying a small tribute for our passing. And there were many of these on that dusty road crossing the savannah.

We drove for hours through the savannah until we finally reached the paved road again. We left behind all the wonders of Mara, its fantastic Maasai warriors, our tents in the camp, the village and all the wildlife and dreamy landscapes that not even dreams could project.

Maara is truly, madly, deeply unforgettable.

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Lake Naivasha

We’ve been driving since forever. The whole day…

The group in the van changed on the way, the American couple stayed in Maara for a day more, we said a long goodbye that morning as they were continuing their 7 months trip to Africa and after to Asia. Together with the Spanish couple and the two Chinese girls we were heading to Naivasha. On the way Martina joined us, a Swiss girl that has been working as a volunteer in Uganda for the last three years with an NGO involved in offering protection to abused children, from sex trafficking, child marriage, violence and even slavery.

At first she was silent. But with a Catalan guy and a Venezuelan woman in the van, no one can stay silent for too long. Marina started soon talking and just minutes after she had all of us silenced. She told us about what she saw in the last three years in Africa, about the kids in the centre, the terrible abuse cases, about Congo, the rebels there and the lava lake, the mountain gorillas in Uganda… We were charmed. This 20 smith years old woman has seen a lot, more than many in a lifetime.

– Ahhhhhaaahhhh, Ahhhhh, Ahhhhhhh

We heard out of the blue this scream that brought us all back to reality from the world where Marina’s stories have taken us for the last hours.

I was looking on the window and saw the pink line somewhere in front, far away, by the shores what seemed to be a large lake, but I didn’t realised what it was until I heard the same Chinese girl as loud as she could:

– Flamingooooooooos!

After all that we’ve seen together the last days, lions, leopard, giraffes, elephants, all the incredible wildlife and the views that made us express in all ways from tears to laughs or exclamations, in all that time the Chinese girls were quite reserved in reactions, as if they did safari their entire lives. In fact all of us in the group were first timers.

Well, this time Kenya had got them truly! They were going completely nuts seeing all that pink! We all turned back to them in surprise and the next second an explosion of laughs followed.

Truth is, we were now getting closer to the wide beach and understood what provoked their exuberant and hilarious reaction: all was pink in front of us. Thousands and thousands of pink flamingos were colouring the shores of Lake Naivasha in pink! A spectacular sight!

Flamingos on Lake Naivasha, Kenya — Pink shores of Lake Naivasha

We all jumped off of the van as soon as we reached the beach. We tried to get closer but they seemed determined to maintain the distance. And then, something incredible happened: a few flamingos opened their wings and flew off, cutting the air meters above the shore. In a perfect synchronising, they were joined soon by hundreds of others until the point where whole sky turned pink and the sound of their beating wings replaced the silence.

In the sunset light this was a view to remember!

Flamingos flying over Lake Naivasha, Kenya — Flamingos on Lake Naivasha

I was the last to leave the beach and brought with me incredible photos and the promise to share them with the rest of the group after. I was wearing pink flamingo feathers earrings bought from a seller on the beach. I felt nothing but pure happiness.

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We spent the night in Naivasha, in a hotel. After sleeping in a tent for so many nights, a hotel room seemed like a long forgotten comfort from another life.

Safari in Niavasha

We completed the famous BIG 5 during that morning safari in Naivasha park. The missing one was the rhino, after we’ve already seen in Maara lion, lepard, water buffalo and elephant. The feeling was of the purest happiness.

We then took a boat ride, saw hipos from very close, quite too close at one point where about ten of them started pop up at the surface and our guide made a sudden manoeuvre to get us far from there fast. They are not necessarily violent but getting too close to them drivers them mad and if so, yes, they have what they need to kill a human with little effort if they want so.

After a few tries in vain to tempt an eagle that was too full for that day for another easy meal, he finally offered the much desired show: left its brunch and cut the air in high speed to catch the fish thrown by our guide.

– Maybe he couldn’t see the fish we threw…was my silly conclusion coming from a too tired brain

– He’s an eagle…

Olga and I started laughing loud in the boat at her very correct remark. After the Spanish couple and Marina left the group that morning, Olga, a Russian woman that I’ve already seen around in the camp in Maara, joined us, as her trip plan through Kenya was at that point the same as mine. She was living in Chicago after graduating in US and was initially traveling with her brother and his wife and kids in Kenya. After the safari in Maara, she left them and was heading back to Nairobi. On her way she was sent by the tours agency to our group.

We started talking and got close during that day. I found out that she has joined the American couple in their extra safari day in Maara. That day they went again to the river in Maara, the place were the great migration crossings happen and they saw a crossing that very day. Hundreds of wildebeests rushed out of the blue towards the muddy waters. It was a life and death battle as crocodiles are waiting there a whole year for the feast. I saw the photos she took, the event I too wanted so badly to whiteness. But no wildebeest was willing to die when I was there.

Amboseli Park and the night safari

My eyelids were heavy, my mind filled with images of safari, lakes, flamingoes, too dusty roads, colourful dressed people in front of colourful stores, endless roads, crowded markets… And everywhere the red soil of mama Africa. From our initial group the only ones left were the two Chinese girls with whom I wasn’t talking much anyway. The trip through Kenya was continuing towards Amboseli.

Another Chinese young woman, a teacher, traveling alone and a Spanish woman, Miriam, also traveling alone before her 3 weeks of volunteering in an orphanage in Kenya, have joined us. We were now 5 women, 3 of us solo travellers. I wasn’t in a friendly mode anymore, I felt like I had enough new friends for the last days. The two women were just starting their trip to Kenya and were excited to have their first safari in Amboseli. I realised how lucky I was to have joined such a cool group from day one: all pretty close as age, coming from different countries but all had travelled to enough places to have nice stories to tell and most important: all coming to fulfil a lifetime dream: the first safari in Africa. So we shared all the happiness, intensity and excitement of each moment. And this truly made the trip more exciting for everyone.

We made a stop in a small town where Richard, our driver had something to do. A few kids were playing around and as we waited, I had the idea to call two of them and give them some candies. I had a one kg bag of caramel candies that I had in mind to share with some kids at one point, as a friendly gesture. The next second I found myself pushed agains the van by a tsunami of small bodies and a sea of little hands grabbing my hands in a me, me, me, me, me noise that immediately attracted all eyes around. I tried to organise them, to give an equal number of candies to each, but i was fulling myself. They calmed down when the last candy I had was in the hands of one of them. I wished I had 10 kg more candies… With cute candid smiles and mouths full, next second they spread all around, continuing their play from where they left it.

The Chinese teacher was apparently inspired by this and she went to buy something from a store nearby. For my surprise, minutes later, she came back with a big bag full of pens.

– Didn’t they have candies?

– Yes, but I want to give them something they useful for school.

I smiled and wanted to see where this goes… She waves the kids that rushed again towards the van, ready for another round of candies. Her authoritarian air stopped them from repeating the episode they had with me. After a well prepared and full of motivation two minutes speech about the importance of education and the benefits of a pen in the life of a student, she starts sharing a pen to every kid. Well this time the interest was that low that some of them didn’t even wanted the pen and those that did took it were having long disappointed faces.

– Now you can also make drawings if you want, she tried to advertise the pens to the kids that were already leaving.

A few hours later, on the road, I realised that my cooper bracelet bought from the village, from the chief’s son, was gone. This made me sad and I remained silent for the rest of the drive.

Small towns, villages, markets, the live colourful movie of Kenya was developing on the screen of my window. In a small town we made a stop and I got off the van to stretch my legs a bit. I bought the most perfect mangos from a lady. I could feel their delicious scent from the stall. I had in mind to eat them in the camp, once we arrive in Amboseli.

I was amused when the Chinese girls, after all those days when they had separate food from the rest of us, prepared for them only and never touched the food or fruits we had served at the points where we stopped on the way for lunch, this time they totally broke the no 1 rule of food safety when traveling: “if you can’t peel it, don’t eat it” and they bought from a vendor on the street two packs of assorted fresh pre-cut fruits. I then was waiting for them to ask Richard to pull over so they can run into a bush… it didn’t happen.

After hours and hours of driving when we all couldn’t wait to finally reach the camp, we stopped. The road was blocked by a long line of vehicles. After about 30min we realised no wheel has moved so something was going on. The cause of all this was far away, in the front, but no one knew what it was, not even the local kids that came to see why so many cars were blocked on the road. The sunset signalled that the last hour of daylight was going to end soon. We were blocked. From one person to the other the information finally reached us: the Maasai tribes that were owning that land had a dispute with the authorities and in conclusion they blocked the road. Police came and a rock fight started. I saw Richard was becoming worried and keep talking to other drivers. Some cars were turning back.

As the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the horizon, Richard came to us and said we’re going to follow another road, through the savannah since we were not far from the camp. We left the road and minutes later the road was gone behind our van in a cloud of dust. The bonus safari at sunset made us very happy. For Miriam it was a first and she got very exited to see the first wildebeest.

– You’ll see thousands, I said and the Chinese girls and I started laughing.

We drove by groups of wildebeests, impala, zebras. The night was conquering the day and soon all I could see were little lights disappearing in the dark: the eyes of different animals.

We were driving for an hour already. Sometimes I could see in the lights of the van, in the front, groups of wildebeests or zebras turning heads and looking at the van surprised as if they were saying: what the hell you do here at night? We didn’t knew either… Richard was driving fast and was very silent. Every few minutes the van was jumping in the air and landing back. I had to use both hands to hold myself and avoid being thrown and get hurt. My hands were so tight it hurt. I couldn’t see it but I smell dust. Tones of dust, the whole dust in the world. I feared that we got lost and had no freaking idea where we were. No one was saying anything and the Chinese girls have stopped asking questions long ago.

The night was so black and the sky was turned into a curtain of stars. I didn’t know which feeling was stronger, fatigue or worry or both in a hard to bare mix. I was waiting for the moment when the van will either break in two or crush in the middle of no where since there was no road around, not even upon savannah standards.

Out of the dark a gate appeared in front. Upon it I could read Amboseli. Richard got off the van and I saw a light cutting the dark and then a small window. Richard talked to the man for a minute. The gate opened, we entered and after who knows how many minutes we reached another gate, the one to the camp. Our mighty van bit the dusty road and the breaks hold in still, finally. When the tones of dust in the air around started to lay back to the ground, I saw a light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. Richard opened the door for me and the 5 of us stepped off the white van, dusting off our clothes with slow tired gestures. The night safari was over! When I saw Richard I was shocked: his face was now all read not black, his t-shirt all wet and lines of sweat were pouring down its face. I then understood how worry he was not for us but only for our safety. But he got back his smile and we joked about our adventurous night safari. We thanked him. We’ve reached Amboseli safe and I was relieved, even though my Maasai mask arrived broken in two and the mangos I bought from that nice lady were turned into mashed mangos and ruined.

I shared the tent with Miriam since the last thing I would have been able to do at that point, after that day and that evening, was sleeping alone. That’s the last memory of that night:

– Miriam, I think we have mice inside the tent….

– Yes, there’s mice shit everywhere…

– Do you think mice can climb up the bed?

– In the bed… no, they can’t.

– Ok. Good then.

And I feel asleep feeling safe.

P.S. It’s been a year and three months since I wrote here… I feelt like couldn’t do it anymore in all this time. A lot has happened. With every day of this last two years we all got more and more far away from what we used to call normality before March 2020. Too many “it can’t be” from the past defines the present reality. The only constant and anchor that remains is nature. The healer, the comfort, the hope.

With the Spanish couple, Miriam and Martina I’m still in contact, as Instagram friends. I was in contact with Olga as well, until last week when I saw she unfollowed me on Instagram. Probably due to my anti war in Ukraine stories. Though she was also posting same thing, it seems it was just pretending. I unliked her posts and blocked her account.

The next morning, opening the tent to this: Killimanjaro, before the last day of Kenyan safari. This time: Amboseli

Next: safari on land in Amboseli and safari on the Indian Ocean, Diani Beach

Kenya

Kenya: 12H safari in Maasai Mara (2)

15 January 2021 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

After 6 hours of riding across the vast savanna, I was getting so high on Maasai Mara. It must have been around 12pm but time in the wild is counted by the sun only. We were all contemplating in silence those fields as our minds were processing the images we’ve fed them so far. Too much to believe. The dream that brought us all to Kenya was happening, we were living it.

As the dust was a provocation we thought we got used to, the next level was quite annoying: the flies. First 2-3 of them and seconds after they were everywhere. In our eyes, ears, mouths and no techniques we used would discourage those kamikaze. Then came the odour… We understood soon why all these: the golden fields of the savanna turned dark. Thousands of wilderbeasts were occupying Mara as far as we could see. Zebras were joining the party in much small numbers, like black and white spots on that paint. I have never seen so many wild animals in one place and never thought this could be even possible in the wild.

– There! This is the Great Migration, I heard Richard, our driver and guide saying. And my thought completed his words: …and this is why is called one of nature’s greatest shows of Earth.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti

We finally arrived to the river, this ground 0 spot of the Great Migration from Serengeti to Maasai Mara, one huge national park split between Tanzania and Kenya. Here, down the hill, we escaped the flies and the smell. I instantly recognised the place as if I was there before multiple times. The deja-vu feel was caused by the mind-blowing images in National Geographic where hundreds of wildebeasts were rushing into the river into a cloud of dust and death as many of them got straight into the jaws of hungry crocodiles waiting down there for their Migration festive meal. We stopped a few meters close to the edge and wait. All the other people in all the other jeeps and vans were playing the same game: waiting for a river crossing. To feed our rush for excitement and our primary instinct for kill. A crazy game I got myself dragged into during those days in Africa. Though I condemn violence in all its forms, I was surprised and ashamed to realise I also joined the club into that thirst of blood, of kill. Somehow… there it seems justified, on that primordial movie set where life and death meet in the most natural form: the kill to survive.

5am – start of a great day

Terrible night! Though I was exhausted, I’ve barely slept. The noises all around I couldn’t identify played like riddles all night long, the suffocating smell from all my 8 mosquito repellent I used before sleep, the feeling that there was someone inside my tent that made me jump out of sleep, the unexplainable real sensation that someone touched my shoulder at one point… and in the end the morning chill that woke me up.

I used my phone in the dark to find the opening in the mosquito net of the bed and rapidly reach the light switch on the wooden wall separating the tent from the bathroom built behind it, with an open roof. Well, at least I slept in fresh air… I then checked the zipper of the tent, with no lock, the only thing separating me from the outside that night…

As there was no other furniture, I used the second bed, which was empty, instead of table, chair and closed. And started to dance. The mosquito proof dance which meant that any time significant areas of my skin were left uncovered or unsprayed with insects repellent, I had o move a lot. On the shower or on the toilet, I wouldn’t stop “dancing”.

I finally put on a lot of clothes and I completed my declaration of style for that safari morning with sox and sandals. Too cold to care: 10C. Yes, Africa, exactly! Not that hot as a European might think.

At breakfast I found out half of my safari buddies had also endured a bad sleep while the other half slept like babies. But we had a whole day safari in Maasai Mara ahead of us and that was the best thing in the world in that morning at the end of August.

– Haaaa, did you hear the hyenas last night: eeww, eewwww, eeewwwww. That was Richard’s good morning….

I exchanged frightened looks with Ariadna, the Venezuelan woman in our group.

It was 6am when we left the camp, following other jeeps, heading towards the sunrise spot in the horizon. The sky was in flames, the safari day was starting. What a great feeling!

In the first hour we saw a cheetah, two lions wandering around in the distance, probably preparing for a hunt, hundreds of wildebeasts, of zebras and Thompson’s gazelles, an ostrich male, warthogs, buffalos…

We drove further until there were no other jeeps in sight. On top of a hill we met a family of giraffes formed of more then 15 members, including 3 calves. We stopped the van and observed them for some time from just a few meters distance. They were so calm and quiet, moving slowly from one acacia tree to another, curling their long tongues around the big thorns on the branches to reach those tinny leaves, spreading their long legs and bending their necks all the way down, to reach the grass. In this position in which they look soo hilarious, like some clumsy gymnasts, we’ve learned that they are the most vulnerable towards predators. They only do it when they feel safe. Otherwise, their kick can kill a lion on the spot. Such a majestic creation they are.

Kenya, Maasai Mara, The Great Migration, Serengeti, wildlife

The next live performance was “acted” by a group of 10 elephants, mothers and their calves. Their society works like this: the males are solitary while females live in large groups lead by a female leader. Richard broke the rules and got us off the track for a few meters, bringing us so close to them until we could even see their eyelashes. He stopped the engine again and we observed them in complete silence. Time was paused for all of us there, turning seconds and minutes into frames and memories made to last all our existence. At times they looked straight to us, peacefully, rising their massive heads to just check on their new visitors. What could they be thinking about us?

A massive buffalo was approaching fast from the other side of the field, looking not so happy to have human spectators at that early hour, so we had to leave in order to avoid getting dangerously close to the one who’s reputation is of being the deadliest animal in Africa.

I couldn’t stop thinking: is our presence there right? In the wild, in their world, as little as we left of it to them. It is intrusive, to call it straight. I felt it often there, during those 7 days of safari, in many situations. Sometimes big predators as lions or cheetahs have to change their hunt plan just because 10 jeeps filled with curious humans got in their way to take some photos or make loud excitement noises. In the savannah reality, us, humans, with all our reactions, devices, cameras with huge lenses, we no longer look as the one specie that has evolved so much… It’s somehow a funny scene and we look dumb.

But in spite of all this interference, the fact that we are intrusive there, it’s a compromise that is digestible up to one point: all animals there are free, they can hunt, eat, fight, mate, wander, sleep, raise their offsprings as they please. They have adapted to this human presence. It’s common to watch hunt scenes taking place a few meters away from safari jeeps or see lions from very few meters distance, as we did later that day. I won’t believe it unless I lived it: two young male lions, sleeping next to a bush, for a little shade in that hot afternoon, ignoring completely the jeeps filled with people, moving in circles around them.

Still, everybody is that calm and that safe only as long as humans stay in the jeep. It’s totally prohibited to step off the car during a safari. We once saw a lion suddenly changing its direction just because he felt a human was on the ground at more then 500m distance. One safari guide had troubles with its car and had to check it for a few seconds. For us, the only times we walked on the fields of Maasai Mara were for those nature calls that really demand it: a visit in the bushes. Always on higher ground, chosen carefully by Richard. Peeing in the wildest wild, after you just saw what can get you, is really something to laugh about. After…

Picnic in the savannah

We left the river site where no crossing seemed to be in plan for the next hour to look for a quiet and safe place to have our lunch. After a few tries nothing seemed good enough for our Richard. We were all hungry… Then we saw it, this huge acacia lonely tree in the middle of a field with tall golden grass where a heard of zebras were enjoying the fiesta. The ideal place. We stepped off the car, walked around a little, breathe that hot dry air then laid down under our tree and had the best picnic in the world, watching the zebras nearby. Happiness is made of moments like this.

To cross or not to cross

By the river we occupied again a still vacant spot close to the edge and joined the waiting ritual. Thousands of wilderbeasts were turning the horizon dark, some part of large groups, others marching in long lines one after another, in a perfect rhythm. A group of hypos were relaxing on a sand bank by the river.

A few crocodiles raising their heads above the muddy water from time to time. By that river that day every living creature was waiting: the wilderbeasts for one of them to have the courage to initiate a crossing so they all can follow, the zebras for the wilderbeasts to go first, a strategy they ofter apply, the crocodiles for their opportunistic fresh meal and the people to see some action and witness how animals are being killed on the spot, without them feeling guilty for it.

I’ve noticed a group of zebras moving a lot, going back and forth around the edge, approaching then distancing, forming a circle and making a lot of noise. They looked as if they were up so something but keep changing their minds. I started paying attention, they wanted to cross the other side. A few others seemed to be calling them from the other side with noises and moves close to the edge on their side. It was an unbelievable scene: they wanted to cross but were afraid.

A larger group of wilderbeasts was forming close to the edge as well. A few times one of them was rushing up to the edge, but then suddenly stopped, coming back slowly and discouraged. It’s how the crossings happen during the great migration, it all starts with one crazy fella that starts running out of the blue towards the edge and all of a sudden hundreds, thousands follow into the river. Some broke legs, some are drowning, many are hurt by the crowds crossing over them while a few get eaten by the crocodiles. But most of them, around 2 millions, survive and so they complete a journey meant to bring them from Serengeti to Mara where in that time of the year the grass is greener. They do this journey every year, facing death in the face and pursuing with living.

Every time a wilderbeast was getting closer to the edge, we stopped breathing. Time stopped and all eyes were in that direction, cameras were ready… but nothing happened.

The only ones who seemed that were having a plan were those zebras. After many hesitations, “talks and argues” and calls from their friends on the other side, they finally rushed to the edge of the river and started the descend. Down there they analysed wisely which is the best spot to cross and finally they got into the water, did it and got away with it. All got alive on the other side, welcomed by the ones there who were watching their crossing all this time, in silence. Their victory was enjoyed on our side too, with applauses.

And that was the only crossing I got to see. I left Mara the next day to continue my trip to Amboseli. A few days later a Russian woman joined our group, what was left of it after we started splitting. She showed me photos with the crossing that took place the very next day. Well, as I like to say: it is what it is and what should happen happens.

Richard was talking the whole time on his satellite phone to other guides. He seemed to know everybody we met and by the afternoon of that day we even got convinced he also knew all the lions in Mara. He was laughing and enjoying each time we were telling him this.

Only this time he was getting agitated and pushed the acceleration until our old white van seemed to be on a race of tearing itself apart on the bumpy tracks of Mara. We got to a small river and almost got stocked there in the mud. He won’s say a word about why all this. We arrived in an area with trees when he finally slowed down. From a few meters away I saw the sleeping beauty of the savannah: high in a tall tree, on a large brunch in the shade was laying a gorgeous leopard. Around it jeeps, people, cameras, photographers. Nothing could bother its sleep.

A few minutes after, as we were all charmed by its beauty, he woke up, turned its head towards us, open its eyes with the wildest and coolest gaze I lived to see, yawn showing its jaws and fell back to sleep. The show was over. We had 4 of the big 5: lion, buffalo, elephant, leopard.

Richard tried to start the engine so we could move. Nothing, just a little engine cough. He tries again. Ups! Nothing. There couldn’t be a better moment for an engine to stop working then sitting under a tree with a wild leopard, a naturally born killing creature.

– Now who’s gonna push the car? He looked towards us and we stopped laughing instantly.

He was just having fun with us. He started laughing seeing our confused faces. Another jeep approached us from the back, pushed us until finally our engine started. We left the leopard sleeping and as soon as we got far enough our little adventure turned into loud laughs. We felt drained of every drop of energy. 12h were coming to an end and the sun was kissing the horizon again, preparing for a savannah sunset. We were dusty, exhausted, every cell of my body hurt but I was so absofuckinglutelly happy.

I took a shower being grateful for this gift in the middle of those dry lands. When I got out I thought I heard something which I didn’t wanna believe was true: my whole tent was conquered by a zzzzz-ing. Mosquitos were everywhere! It was getting dark and as the generators were not yet on, I had no light but I thought I saw something flying around inside the tent. Was not an impression. Was a bat… So reality was like this: a tent filled with mosquitos and a bat flying freely inside. I had no malaria pills but bats eat mosquitos. What could I do… I took my tusker beer bought by Hosea, my driver in Nairobi and left the tent to join my new friends and end a great day with a great evening. Thank you Kenya!

PS: that night I slept like a leopard

An animal was killed every 3 minutes by trophy hunters over the last decade. 1.7 million animals perished like this. An industry worth 340M every year. (Euronews)

Once among the world’s most iconic hunting destinations, Kenya has had a national ban on trophy hunting since 1977. But poaching still exists, in spite all efforts, everywhere where “trophies” are still alive. I can’t stop wonder one thing: how is it possible to see those animals in the wild and the only urge that comes out of all this is to kill, to destroy.

Kenya

Kenya: safari in Maasai Mara (1)

1 November 2020 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

– I will go to Africa one day to see the lions. And when I’ll see them, I will cry.

This is what I used to say to my friends about one of my biggest dreams: the African safari. The big truth that I now know it is that nothing can prepare anyone for Africa, the red continent where all expectations are exceeded.

The morning before

– Excuse me…Hello….Good morning….Excuse me….Pleaseee

Loud knocks at the entrance door. I opened one eye in the dark room with the curtains pulled and my first thought was: where am I now?

Ahhh, yes, Nairobi! My brain figured out: that one week safari starts today! That was the fuel I needed to jump out of the bed like a rocket and reach the door in 2 steps. I opened it and the light blinded me. A very worried man was standing there, and all I could see first were his eyes contrasting its cocoa skin.

– Sister, excuse me, they came for you, for the safari. Are waiting, I tried to call… he said in a hurry.

I loved how he called me sister. I must have been quite a chaos in person myself, in pyjamas, my hair was a mess and my eyes barely opened on a sleepy face.

– OMG, I overstepped! The safari, yes! I went crazy going in circles inside the dark room, trying to figure out what to grab first. What time it is?

-It’s 7! They came and….

– What??? 7? Only? They’re supposed to come for me at 8:30! I started to laugh, covering my eyes with one hand and leaning against the wall in relief.

The guy asked then three times if I permit him to enter in my room to check the phone. He stepped in very shy and saw it was actually unplugged.

In one hour I was ready to go. I met Josea again, my too early bird friend I met the day before, at my arrival. He and another guy drove me first to the centre of Nairobi, at the tour agency office. I recognised the narrow passages between the buildings, close to the place where the evening before I managed to change, with his help, 200 euro into Kenyan shillings. The whole operation seemed like a drug traffic scene in a thriller. The census that was taking place those days has been shutting down the whole city, closing all shops, banks and exchange offices very early. That evening, after asking around a few people with no success, Josea made me a discreet sign to wait where I was. He then approached two security officers, talked to them for a few seconds making sighs towards me. He followed one of them on a back street and made me a discreet sigh to follow them. I couldn’t see much because of the dark but enough to figure out that the place looked very grim and quite spooky, with dumpsters all around and trash spread on a dirty broken pavement between two old buildings with walls covered in old graffiti. It smelled like garbage. I was assessing how low was the level of my safety in those circumstances and it seemed what we were doing was illegal. The idea of being scammed came only second. Happily it all worked well, the “operation” was a success, I even got a good exchange rate and finally had Kenyan money in my pocket.

During the day it was different, except that garbage smell. We entered a building, got inside a small elevator, then passed through a corridor with a beauty salon where a few Kenyan ladies were doing their curly hair straight, and then a door opened to a small office:

– I’m Simon, welcome to Kenya!

Simon was the type of guy looking like those black male models that we see on fashion catwalks or Vogue magazines: tall, well build, killer sensual lips and a sexy smile on a very handsome face. That and his leather jacket brought that kind of smile on my face, the kind that attractive people can only bring, instinctively.

I payed all the expenses for the safari trip and stored my big luggage in their office till I was coming back. It felt so good that for the next days all was taken care of. All my safari outfits were in my polka dot backpack: the sunscreen, the hat and the 7 types of mosquito repellent. In my country Malarone, the prevention pills for malaria, was impossible to find, so my plan B strategy was to keep mosquitos away.

And off we were…

One American couple from Carolina, one Spanish couple from Catalunya, two Chinese girls and myself. That was our group in the white old safari van with 8 seats, drove by Richard, our driver and guide, who’s grey hair and pronounced lines around his eyes were a guarantee for how much he saw and knew. Ohh, and how he exceeded all our expectations by the end of those 7 days and 6 nights! We were already set to become friends the moment we stepped in that van, as great experiences always create strong bonds between people that live them. I started off on the right foot and got the single seat in the front of the van. Well, again, the perks of traveling alone! Well, the downsides came later…

The van started to move, following the other 3 in the font, heading to Masai Mara. I kept staring outside, at the streets, the people, the buildings. I didn’t felt like talking, socialising, getting to know the other people in the van, blabla. At all! But when there’s a pure blood Spanish – Catalan around, this doesn’t last long. As soon the wheels started rolling, he started talking and by the time we left Nairobi we all got to know each other, our names (except the Chinese girls…), where do we came from, what we do for work, what languages do we speak and how our Kenyan holiday plan looked like. Hearing that the American couple was starting a 7 months long journey in Africa and Asia caused a loud awwww in the van. Then the Spanish couple was going to Serengeti, in Tanzania and after to Zanzibar. The Chinese girls and I only Kenya. Richard joined the conversation soon and the atmosphere became quite cheerful, and we talked until all of us got tired and some fell asleep. I continued watching Kenya revealing itself from my window seat.

market, Africa, Kenya trip — market in Kenya

As soon as we left the busy Nairobi and its concrete city vibe, the savannah started showing its patterns, one by one. First tree by tree, image by image, as if a video was loading, and then like an explosion of frames that turned all my previous imagination into reality: umbrella acacia trees, tall dry grass, vast horizons crossed by apparently endless roads passing through villages with the most colourful cottages I ever saw, built straight on that unbelievably red soil. The red continent was revealing its beauty rapidly, strong and tangible. Elegant women in beautiful and colourful dresses, wearing high heels and makeup on the dustiest roads I ever saw. These images were so contrasting. Later only I understood it was not a feminine statement as it is in the so called West. It was about being strong and fearless and elegant and feminine no matter what and where. Such power can only be profoundly admired and applauded.

For 8 long hours Kenya was showing itself to me as the rest of the group went quiet and asleep. I kept watching that movie playing on the screen of my window, with every town, village and markets we passed by, with every kid waving his hand, with every corner looking like a Pulitzer awarded photography.

Hell’s Gates, the door to Maasai Mara

After lunch in a restaurant where many other vans and safari jeeps were stopping in front, we made a short stop at Hell’s Gates, the point offering perfect views over Rift Valley, the vast savanna below, reaching far away as if it owned this world. Once here was a prehistoric lake that fed our human ancestors. We got sooo excited observing in the bushes some rodents looking like huge rats. Some Asian tourists started taking photos of them frenetically. We were all at the beginning of our journey and that seems to me now so funny, comparing to the photo opportunities that followed.

Maasai Mara starts here

The roads got dustier and bumpier and the landscape wilder. Richard announced that we were entering Maasai Mara. His voice came as a poke to reality to me: I was in Maasai Mara! Then the dust, the heat of the late afternoon and the constant same views of the savannah, still and quiet, made me sleepy. I was struggling not to close my eyes fearing that I will miss something great. What a premonition. And then I saw them, like two silhouettes from another world – tall, very slim, with unusual long legs and hands, with skin like black velvet and their bodies half covered with blood red rags, with high sharp swards in their hands and a fearless yet calm sight, with colourful large necklaces around their neck and long earrings hanging down their ears. I almost hurt my neck trying to gain one more second of this: two Maasai warriors watching us passing by in a cloud of dust, leaving them behind, vanishing into the immensity of Mara.

– Did you see that…??? I said seconds later, when I could again articulate.

No one did saw them but me and it was impossible to describe it in just words. Such a powerless instrument for such striking scenes. The image of those Maasai warriors was like a tattoo on the memory, two uncrowned gods of the wild who’s image is one of the strongest I have about Kenya.

This was how Maasai Mara, the land of Maasai tribes – in translation meaning the people that speak the language Maa, opened its doors to us. And I could feel that my moment – “I will go to Africa to see the lions. And when I’ll see them, I’ll cry.” was close….

Kenya, africa, Maasai Mara, Maasai tribe woman — Maasai woman in Kenya

I was watching ahead, with a far-off look, in silent, resting my chin against the front seat back next to Richard. For quite some time the sandy track we were following was just a pale yellow line crossing the dry fields. The afternoon heat was making the landscape blurry. Then I think I saw something… First I thought my eyes are wrong, then that it was because of the heat or maybe a piece of dry bush left there, in the middle of the road, by the wind. It was still there, right in the middle of the road, as the distance between us was reducing fast. I lift up my head and focused to that. It still wasn’t moving and a shape was slowly contouring now. The shape of a young impala was becoming a certainty. We were getting dangerously close and Richard didn’t seem to thing of slowing down. Before I could spell “Richard, watch out”, only when we got a few meters away, as if it was challenging its courage, the impala decided to jump away and instantly vanish. So Richard wasn’t risking to hit it, he just knew it will jump aside in the last moment. This time we all saw and got super excited. I saw a smile on Richard face in the mirror. How many people he must have drove like this, through their first safari experience, whitening their first reactions.

Now the wilderness around us was as cut off from the National Geo documentaries about Africa, those I used to watch sitting down, on the carpet, in our living-room, when I was a kid, so I could see better.

We didn’t even had the time to process what we just saw and finish all excitement exclamations when suddenly a large group of giraffes appeared out of nowhere. It happened so suddenly that it took us all by surprise and without phones or cameras at hand. In spite of all the promises and guarantees made on the tens of tours operators sites I checked while organising the trip, I never thought it could be quite like that: an abundance of wildlife in one place: about 20 giraffes, tens of zebras and even more wildebeests appeared out of no where. Richard stopped the car and the engine and let us wonder as the animals were just a few meters away from the road, doing what they do all day long: eating. They didn’t even blink seeing us. And there it happen. In front of a sight that no zoo could ever offer and no documentary can even get close to, in the middle of the savannah, my tears didn’t wait for that first lion. My eyes got wet. For feelings like that make days in our lives worth remembering there is no effort too big, no distance too long and no boundaries impossible to cross.

Maasai Mara safari, Kenya, African safari, giraffes, wildlife, nature, photography — Kenya

The camp

At the end of a 9 hours ride we arrived in the camp. Our neighbours for the next days were the inhabitants of a Maasai village. We passed by their settlement, followed by a cloud of dust, as a few young men were directing the cattle inside their village walls build of clay and soil. A large group of barefoot kids dressed very colourful stop their game in front of the village to salute us and didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the dust that came after us, leaving them invisible.

A few Maasai men in front of the camp helped us with the luggages in change of a tip. I only had my blue-marine polka dot backpack. This is how tourists coming to see the lions bring a benefit to the local community, besides buying hand made souvenirs or sometimes making small donations.

A few rows of large tents built on the ground, closed with a zipper, housing two beds covered with mosquito nests and in the back, a bricked up, well, almost up, bathroom with a shower in the wall, a toilet and a sink. One tent was mine alone. It was basic but having all it needs and the bed was clean. Cleaner then in other places where running water is not as precious as it is in the middle of the savannah. The water pressure at the sink was very low, it took a lot of patience for a hand wash, but the shower was good, with warm water. Outside, a kitchen, a small bar and a large room with white plastic tables and chairs where guests could serve the food from the buffet. Electricity was available only during the night. That was our camp, simple but filled with excited people.

We had one hour to leave our luggages and get ready for the first safari. I sit on my porch a bit. In the tent on the right the Spanish couple was laughing loud of something only they knew, on the left Elaine, the American woman saw doing some stretching.

The afternoon: the first safari

We jumped back in our white old van and headed straight into the wild. Richard opened the roof and like this it looked more as a safari car. Well, still quite far from the jeeps we’ve seen around. The cool air of the afternoon smelled like vast fields and dry grass. A few minutes only after we left the camp, we started meeting the animals. Wildebeests were everywhere, zebras came after, impala in small or bigger herds with many calves among them, a few warthogs with their funny walk and constantly on the move, an ostrich female. With every distance covered, advancing into the dry depths of Mara, we were more and more mind-blown. Like a dream you have for so long and when it becomes reality you realise it has exceeded any scenarios your imagination could have crafted.

I got my camera out of the bag in a general “woww” from my safari companions. My new lens, a telezoom, bought especially for the trip, was one of the best acquisitions I ever made. Even though is the cheapest available from Sony, it totally made the difference when it comes to taking photos during a safari. The phones, even the newest models, were quite useless so I promised the others to share my photos when back home.

We were talking about that when I instinctively turned my head away and looked far, to an area where the dry grass was even taller growing by some bushes. I just couldn’t take my eyes off that spot, without seeing something there, as if I felt it. And there it was, perfectly blending in, part of that far away field, a lonely gorgeous lioness.

– A lion!

Only after long minutes and using Richard binoculars all the others manage to see her. Laying in the grass, with her mouth opened, breathing relaxed and calm.

– Girl, you got eyes for lions! I couldn’t see her not even after pointing the exact spot!

The first of the big 5 was that lioness. The 2nd came fast after, was a Cape buffalo in a swamp we passed by, looking angry at us with his dark massive horns covering its upper head and curving around its head like a true threat. Called the Black Death, it is known to have killed more game hunters than any other animal in Africa. It’s a karma weapon after all.

Maasai Mara buffalo, safari, Kenya — Cape Buffalo in Maasai Mara

A cloud of dust raising up in the sky was the target Richard was aiming. The old white van was running wild on the bumpy track and five other jeeps were following us. We arrived to what it seemed to be at first a jeeps an vans gathering in a cloud of dust. But that was not it. We saw the reason of this madness: two male cheetah laying in the grass a few meters away, totally ignoring us silly humans making excited noises and using phones, cameras and even half meter long lens to get an image of them. The sun was setting and it was the most perfect golden hour that our home, planet Earth, can offer as another gift to us.

Next: 12h safari and the Great Migration

Kenya

Kenya – Nairobi: start of journey

28 August 2020 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

The sun had almost completed its journey for that day. Just another one for it and an unforgettable one for me. It had nothing but the seize of a palm left to shine light and as I looked around, towards the huge umbrella acacias, I thought: if only I could stay like this forever, with my zebra print bracelet made of camel bone on the left wrist and the red beaded one from mama Masai on the right, with the image of the three lionesses resting in the golden grass, by the palm trees near the swamp, the 24 elephants crossing the path in a cloud of dust, the sleeping hyenas and the hypos in the swamp of Amboseli….

The savannah was like this: complete.

I wrote these lines a year ago, watching the sunset in Amboseli, at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro with its white peak of snow, at the end of a 7 days safari in Kenya because I wanted to be able to read it after and feel what I felt then: completeness.

27 days before

A safari in Africa was always a dream that seemed to big. Or should I say too expensive. After I came back from Puglia, Italy, in August, I was wandering online, looking for my second trip of last summer. It was when I found out about an event I did heard before, one of nature’s great wonders, The Great Migration, how it’s called the world’s largest migration of wildlife. Over two million animals migrate from Serengeti, in Tanzania, to the greener pastures of Maasai Mara, in Kenya. It’s the wildebeest who set the start, followed of course by other animals. I remembered my reaction when I read on a website the animals that was guaranteed to see in each park. Lions were called abundant and guaranteed to see in Mara. It seemed a marketing line at that moment…

I bought the tickets 20 days before the departure and what followed was a marathon of emails and messages to a significant number of tour operators. Some didn’t answer, some were starting the conversation from 4000 euro for 3 days of safari, others had packages of 10-25K. I soon found out Kenia is not a cheap destinations when it comes to safari, but absolutely doable if you work enough to plan the trip. So I meet Rachel, the one that at the end of 37 emails in a week had me as her customer. I started from a 2 days safari and she got me sent the advance for a 7 days safari: Masai Mara, Amboseli, Nakuru.

The plan was done, the reservations made, my safari wardrobe bought, plus a telephoto lens for my camera, the vaccine for yellow fever checked, the visa obtained. After the 7 days safari, I planned a few days on the coast, in Diani beach, close to Mombasa, for some relaxing beach time. Kenia was already giving me butterflies like no other destination before.

Arriving

After a few hours stop in a hot like hell Doha, I arrived in Nairobi at midday. The airport seemed a lot smaller than others I’ve been before in Europe or Asia. My name written on a sheet of paper at the entrance was what I was looking for. Josea was my driver from the airport to my hotel. I was so excited and talkative and we became friends very quickly and by the time I reached the hotel we had the plan for that day. He needed extra money for his girl that needed a heart surgery in India and I needed to see Nairobi with a local.

A 3m high concrete wall and an iron gate opened when we arrived. Three men with riffles came out and check the car, only after we were allowed to enter. I was going to find out that this is common in Kenia for places destinated to tourists.

– Hello sister, was the salute that made me smile so many times in Kenya. Welcome to Nairobi! First time here?

Kibera – o glimpse on life in the largest urban slum in Africa

I felt immediately as I landed in Nairobi what it feels like to feel different because of the color of your skin. As soon as I left the airport, I saw no other white people on the streets, in the cars, in the shops, in the markets. It felt strange.

Josea and I we drove on the streets in Nairobi center that looked as if it could be placed in any other country: tall buildings of offices, large boulevards, parks, fountains, busy crossroads. Then we left the central area and continue until a sea of rusty roofs appeared out of nowhere.

Kibera slum, Nairobi, Kenya, — Top view over Kibera, Nairobi

I was curious to see it the moment I read that there were walking tours organized there. Tours for white people in clean clothes to see the black in extreme poverty. As if we all don’t have our poors in our own cities in every single country on this earth. But as a friend who came back from Mumbai once said, their poverty is more of a poverty then ours.

Kibera, one of the largest slums in the world and the largest in Africa is home to, some say 1M, others 1.4M, Josea said almost 2M Actually, a look from the above tells the truth: only God can know.

A fact is that 60% of Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, 4.4 million people, live in low income settlements, meaning slums. They occupy occupying 6% of the land. So 60% on 6%. There’s no need of Communist ideology to see this gap is too deep and too dark. And so was the life in Kibera the day I was there and all the others that followed. Poverty can’t be described and I won’t even dare to try it. It can be seen but will continue to be never understood by those who were offered more simply by birth. Because one with a full belly will never understood the one who’s starving.

I left ashamed towards the people in Kibera we drove by that day. Ashamed because it’s not fair. I didn’t leave the car and took no photos except thiese on the street we first entered the area.

Kibera, Nairobi, Africa — Kibera, Nairobi

After I went quiet, as the street got more and more narrow and I saw the cobweb of streets that were only accessible by foot and that went deep into the heart of Kibera, from which I stole images of faces and little fragments of life scenes. I was just a passing view of a car with a white woman that day. But for me it was a thousand of perspective changing images. The start of a lesson offered by Africa, a place it’s impossible to come back from the same as you left.

Nairobi for tourists

The Giraffe Centre, established to protect the endangered giraffe that is found only in the grasslands of East Africa, a place where you can feed the giraffes, was just closing. As we left, a warthog was crossing the little alley to the parking lot. This was my first encounter with the African wild life and got me head over flip-flops excited. Josea was amused by my reactions. Next, he had to stop the car by the road for the second encounter: a tree filled with marabou storks. I crossed a heavy circulated road just to get closer to a gate where I could see them better. It started to look like the Africa I was dreaming about.

Giraffe Manor

My phantasy of visiting this place and see the giraffes sneaking their heads on the windows and chewing bites on the plates on the beautifully arranged table, stayed a phantasy. The place was accessible only for guests, which in perfectly understandable when you pay between 500-1000 $ for a room. Maybe some other time. As Josea started telling me about the fields of Mara packed with wild life, I instantly forgot about it. He took me after to a shop selling Maasai art. Those masks and mahogany sculptures were fantastic but all was very expensive. A great sculpture piece could cost up to 15k $. I bought my zebra bracelet made of camel bone there, for about 12$. The one I wore after in every single day of that trip.

Carnivore is the most famous restaurant in town. Opened since 1980 and included on the list of the best 50 restaurants in the world, the place is a heaven for meat eaters, with its all you can eat buffet and the huge round barbecue in the middle and a hell on earth for vegetarians. It used to be very exotic in terms of menu, in the past, until Kenia imposed a ban on game meat.

It was packed with white tourists wearing safari outfits and the gates kept opening and the armed guards kept checking on the jeeps bringing the guests for that night. It was nice but too Westerner for the taste of someone like me, too hungry for the Kenyan culture.

Dinner in Nairobi

Josea fulfilled my wish: we went for dinner in a local restaurant, “where he would go for good local food”. We entered a large covered terrace with white plastic tables and chairs. Nothing posh. All eyes turned to the entrance, to us. The clientele was entirely formed by locals. We stopped at the counter where a refrigerated display case was full with pieces of raw meat. I let Josea made the choice but as I saw him picking a piece of ribs with more bones then meat and not looking good at all, I started thinking that the biscuits I bought with me from home, for emergency reasons only, might be my dinner that evening. The meat was taken to the barbecue. I was so hungry… A lady came for the order and stayed for a conversation. She looked at me smiling as I was exposing all my excitement for finally being in Kenia, “to see the lions”.-

– When I see you people flying here from the other side of the world to see the lions, and I see them every day from my kitchen window! she laughed and made a move in the air with her hand while my jaw just dropped.

We talk and talk and my dinner was no where to be seen. I started reaching my eyes for it every 5 minutes. When a tall men carrying a large plate approached our table, with a big piece of meat on it that was so hot it was still frying, spreading a steam of barbecue all around, I fixed my eyes on it. He cuts it into pieces and the lady brings a few bowls with cabbage salad, tomato, pepper and onion salad and a plate with the African polenta as I named it, only their ugali is white not yellow. It didn’t look fabulous. The first bite totally changed my philosophy about food: it was the best, sweetest, juiciest, crunchiest barbecue I ever had. It absolutely confirmed all the rumours I have heard before about Africans the masters of barbecue. Those goat ribs in that evening in Nairobi were so much praised in all the stories I’ve told my gourmand friends after. We ate and talk and laughed and I knew that Carnivore couldn’t offer me that. It was the perfect start of a week long safari in Kenya.

Next: 3 days safari in Masai Mara