Africa 2009 - Tanzania - Part 6

UPLOAD TANZANIA

DOWNLOAD KENYA


BRING LOTS OF MONEY!


BORDER BREAKFAST

CRESTED CRANES

BYE BYE KILIMANJARO

BYE BYE ELEPHANTS

It’s a bright sunshiny morning as we upload our luggage into the minivan and say ‘Bye-Bye’ to Amboseli National Park. But first we have to stop for a few more photos. Amboseli is definitely the best place in Kenya to take elephant pictures. And the birds aren’t too shabby either. I love the crested cranes!

Then it’s time to hit the road. Back across dusty Lake Kilimanjaro and onto the single- track dirt-road to the park entrance. At the gate, we wait in the van for Robinson to pay the exit fees. Rena scores three really nice necklaces of hammered copper and tiny glass beads from some Masai Mamas. Margaret and Jon resist the hard sell by rolling up the windows and looking the other way. But I am careful to make eye contact with each vendor and apologetically shrug shoulders while gently saying, “Hapana pesa, pole.” (‘sorry out of money’ in Swahili). I’m trying my best to dispel the impression that all foreigners are harsh. The Masai must marvel at how threatened mzungu’s are by markets and bargaining. I find that a kind look costs nothing and is greatly appreciated, wherever one travels.

From the park entrance it’s a one-hour drive to the border at Mahanga. Outside Mahanga, we stop at a lovely café for breakfast. I spring for some mandazi – the square donuts of East Africa . Everyone else is afraid of food poisoning but I overdose on hot, sugary fried dough. Lucky for me, I’m protected by a cast iron stomach and the doxycycline antibiotic that I take to prevent malaria. (Incidentally, the Swahili word for diarrhea is tchi-tchi-tchi. I believe it’s onomatopoetic for the sound of thick liquid dropping into a pit latrine.)

At the border we have to change everything – our minivan for a 4-WD Range Rover and our drivers and money for their Tanzanian equivalents. We soon find out that everything in Tanzania is more expensive than in Kenya – beginning with the visa to enter the country. In Kenya a visa costs $50 as you enter – in Tanzania it’s double that! But only for Americans! At first I thought we were singled out because we’re supposed to be wealthy. The real explanation is that America charges the most of any country in the world for its entry visas. So Tanzania, Brazil and a few other countries are asking Americans to pay tit-for tat at their borders. Payback is a b**ch!

After emptying our wallets of major moolah, we cross the border. (and find that lunch in Arusha, Tanzania is twice as expensive as in Mahanga, Kenya.). If you go on safari in Tanzania be sure to bring lots of cash.

Tanzania travel tip #1 :) On second thought, the next time I cross into Tanzania maybe I'll take off my underwear, don a plaid blanket and hike across with the Masai. There are benefits to being a member of a traditional tribe that has never been conquered, doesn't believe in school, and has no concept of borders. The Masai just follow their herds and if the animals head south from Kenya into Tanzania - so be it.

Tanzania travel tip #2 :) Many places in East Africa will only change U.S. bills Series 2006 or later. Apparently, counterfeiters have a much easier time making fake bills to match earlier Series. We had to go to three banks in Amesbury to find $1000 in Series 2006 spending money to bring with us! (By the way, paying with plastic is OK in Nairobi but not common anywhere else in East Africa.)

DAKTARI

Africa 2009 - Meet the Masai - Part 5

One small Leap for a Man

One Giant Leap for everyone Else

Honored Guests
Tough Competition - Peter is on the left

They're not Kidding!

Before heading to the Tanzania border, I meet a Masai named Peter in the hotel lobby.
Being a wee more than a wee bit Scots (the new-world Beans of North America are a black sheep offshoot of the Clan McBain), I feel a shared bond with this tall warrior wearing a red tartan blanket and no underwear.

I offer the traditional greeting to my new-found kinsman:
“Eyeh, Sopa!” (How are you?) I intone.
“Eyeh, Hepa,”(Fine and you) replies Peter.

This greeting in the Maa language, is followed by the traditional queries:
“How are your children?”
“And how are your cattle?”
(These comprise the two main measures of Masai wealth.)
“My cows and children are well,” says Peter.
I tell him my children are fine too and lie about the cattle.
(Although once upon a time I did own a small herd of Hereford's. But that, as they say, is another story.)

By and bye, Peter invites me and my clan to an exhibition of traditional Masai dancing.
Jon, Margaret, Rena and I march single-file from the pool area to a shaded dance floor where the bare earth is packed hard and smooth. We are greeted by 4 women and 5 men all in traditional Masai plaids.

The women garland us with fine Masai beadwork and we are led to seats as the honored guests. The Masai Moran (warriors) enter with spears and whisks to begin their low, rhythmic, hypnotic chant.

Then the jumping starts. Each Masai warrior takes a turn doing serial leaps as high as he can.
“Wow, these guys can really jump,” whispers Jon.
“Not bad,” I agree. “But watch this.”
I call Peter over. Before long I'm in with the dancers.
At 5 feet 10, I'm the short guy in the back row.
As the chant progresses I work my way to the front. It's show time!

OK! Now for the big jump. One, two, three – Heppa!
That's one small leap for a man, (and no great leap for mankind, either).
I cast a glance at my fellow dancers.
Most of the Moran are smiling. Perhaps it is in appreciation. More likely they are whispering softly to each other in Maa, “It's true what they say - The white guys can't jump.”

I get a more honest response from the front row of the gallery where I have obviously impressed the royalty. Milady Margaret is laughing herself silly and her handmaiden Rena is about to pee in her pants. We buy sodas for all the guys and contribute a thousand shillings to the Moran’s 'Children and Cattle Welfare' fund.

“I love watching the Masai drink Coca Cola. It's just like the commercials on TV!” enthuses Rena as we head to the van.

Robinson puts the pedal to the metal and we're on our way to Tanzania. The road signs are looking more ominous. It's rough, it's dusty, it's an adventure.

DAKTARI

Africa 2009-Amboseli Game Drive- Part 4

LION WATCHERS
LION LOVERS
WHAT MAMMALS DO BEST BEER FOR BREAKFAST?
HAPPY TRAILS

The game drive at Amboseli starts promptly at 7:30 AM. We have no further brushes with squirrel monkeys or other varmints and after our coffee and cake we assemble in the trusty Toyota van to see what the rest of the park has to offer.

Our driver, Robinson, is a whiz at birds. On our way in to the gamepark, we spot a lilac breasted roller, a black bellied bustard and two spur winged plovers. I can’t tell one avian from another but I love the names!

One of our first sightings of the morning is two lions humping. Never seen that before! I'm reminded once again that on my 13 visits to East Africa, I’ve seen lions doing lots of different things, but I’ve never actually seen a lion kill anything. What’s with that? Where is ‘nature red in tooth and claw’?

In fact, as I reflect further, I’ve never seen any animal murders at all in my 20 years of visiting East Africa. It makes me wonder, why are real-life safaris so different from the usual serial killings that one watches on National Geographic specials or Animal Planet shows?

Rather than predator versus prey, mostly what we see on safari is lions making babies and lots and lots of breast feeding. We see baby elephants, baby wildebeests, baby zebra and their lactating Moms. Maybe Darwin and his followers have it all wrong! Maybe the survival of the species doesn’t depend so much on how great a hunter your Daddy is but on how great a nurser your Mommy is. That’s why Mammals are us. And Tyrannosauri are extinct. In which case, we humans would be wise to spend more of our resources improving the quality of our support for nursing mothers rather than beefing up our military might. Call it the “Boob Theory” of evolution! Just think, if Darwin had been a woman, perhaps ‘survival of the fittest’ would have a whole different meaning. It may be only a theory -- but I like it. Go mammals!

After the game drive, we arrive back at the Serena Lodge for a hearty safari breakfast. Gotta love those fresh mangos! There's no Kenya AA coffee for the young ones however. Seems like they've discovered the pleasure of Tusker for brunch. After breakfast, the expedition splits up – most of our fellow travelers head back to Nairobi where they will catch a plane to Kisumu and eventually meet the truckload of luggage in Esabalu village.

Next stop for John, Margaret, Rena and me is the Tanzania border for more safari adventures. A sign on the track to the border promises a bit of rough travel ahead! As does the sign on our Tanzanian land-rover – “It’s rough, it’s dusty, it’s an adventure.”

DAKTARI

Africa 2009 -Mugged by a Monkey- Part 3

SCENE OF THE CRIME- PATIO AT AMBOSELI
THE PRIME SUSPECT-LOOKING INNOCENT
SQUIRREL MONKEYS CAN BE SCARY-ESPECIALLY AT NIGHT!

“God, it’s still the middle of the night!”

As usual jet lag has me wide awake, brain humming at 5:00 AM.
Then I remember the young Masai warrior who showed us to our rooms last night.

“There is always fresh coffee on the verandah 24 hours per day and seven days in a week,” he proudly intoned.

“Just what your average Mzungu tourist needs to hear at 5 AM,” I think to myself.

Slipping into my standard issue African flip-flops, I quietly open the hut door and let myself out into the pitch black African night. Far away, a wildebeest coughs. Otherwise complete silence. Brandishing my outsized room key as a weapon, I flick the switch on my trusty pocket torch and stumble down the path to the main lodge.

“Ah, Heaven,” I exclaim. The hearty aroma of Kenya AA wafts from a steaming urn at one end of the patio. I remember what my grandfather used to say about Maxwell House back on the family farm in New Raymer, Colorado. “Hotter than the devil, blacker than hell and good to the last drop.”

I fill two earthen mugs with Kahawa moto (hot coffee), maziwa (cream) and sukari and head back up the path to surprise my hutmate. John passes me on the way back and inhales deeply.

“Fresh coffee on the verandah,” I say quietly, pointing toward the patio.

Back in the hut, Rena is not a happy camper, but she soon revives and starts packing a bag for the morning game drive. Binocs, camera, sunblock, water, hat, etc.
Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream issues from just outside our hut. Margaret and I burst from our respective rooms at the same time.

There’s John, drenched in coffee and shaking his fist at the rain gutter on our hut.
We look up to see a very small, very happy squirrel monkey stuffing pound cake into its mouth with both hands.

“I’ve been mugged by a monkey!” yells John. Choice but ineffectual epithets fly toward the little thief on the roof who shakes one fist and curses right back. Margaret and I are laughing really hard. No sympathy for poor John.

“Good thing lions don’t like pound cake, “ I chortle. “You might have been a goner.”

“I guess there’s no harm done,” admits John. “From now on I’ll eat my cake first, before I head back to the hut.”
DAKTARI

Africa 2009 - Amboseli = White Dust - Part II

KILIMANJARO
RENA RESTING IN OUR THATCHED HUT

OSTRICH FOR DINNER ANYONE?

'SWAMPY' THE ELEPHANT

SUNSET DE JOUR

ROOMKEYS - DOES SIZE COUNT??

White dust. That’s what Amboseli means in the local Maa language. As we go off road across the dried remains of Lake Amboseli, our van kicks up huge plumes of white dust. Lake Amboseli is 15 km long and fills with water in the rainy season. Now in the dry season it’s completely evaporated, leaving miles and miles of thick white dust. We pass Masai women wrapped in their colorful plaid blankets trudging patiently in this harsh environment. High in the background, floats the white cap of Kilimanjaro. It is positively surreal, tiny human figures in a lunar landscape. Where on earth can they possibly be going?

The white dust is deposited by glacial runoff from the snows of Kilimanjaro. Kilimanjaro is the highest mountain in Africa. It rises three and a half mile from the dusty Njaro plains. Its snow- covered volcanic peak is the second largest mountain in the solar system, only dwarfed by Olympus Mons on Mars for sheer geologic bulk.

“Wow! That’s some mountain !” enthuses John.

“So you say!” I demure. “It’s not even considered a mountain by the locals.”

“What do you mean- not a mountain?” John swallows the bait.

“Well, the name is a kind of an in-joke in Swahili.” I explain. “It’s a play on words. Lima means hill, the diminutive prefix ki- indicates it’s a small hill, and Njaro is the dust –filled plain we are driving across right now. Put it all together and you have ‘little hill on the prairie’ or Kilimanjaro.”

After the white dust of the lakebed, the Amboseli Serena lodge is an oasis.
Cute little monkeys frolic on the grounds as we are led to our individual bungalows. Each bungalow has a thatched roof, a hot shower and beautiful murals painted on the white-washed walls. How delightful.

We arrive late and take a curtailed game drive to see elephants belly-deep in swampy mud while the sun sets over the acacias. This sure makes up for a lot of white dust! The dining hall has murals too – John sits with his back to a wall decorated with a somewhat disconcerting mural featuring an ostrich’s derriere!

After dinner we sit on the verandah as groups of animals follow a game path from the watering hole to the savannah. The path passes not 40 yards from our table and floodlights from the hotel illuminate the most astonishing parade of antelope and zebra. Thompson’s gazelle, waterbuck, wildebeast, and zebra pass in a continuous, silent tableau – 20 or 30 animals at a time. A true “garden of eden” moment. We relax into primeval revery. East Africa – my 13th trip and always there is something new.

Returning to our rooms, we pick up our undeniably phallic room keys at the front desk.
“It would be hard to walk out of the hotel with this in your pocket,” I quip to John. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass the staff.”

“Or the animals,” John laughs.

Our fair lady wives just roll their eyes. But we’re in Africa and we’re having fun.
It’s rough! It’s dusty! It’s an adventure!
DAKTARI