Kids Waving

Burkina Faso. It always amazes me. Across Africa, driving through villages, kids come running out of homes, jumping and waving. Screaming “hello” “how are you?” Just plain yelling, dancing with enthusiasm. It brings a smile to your face. As with most African countries, I am blown away by the grace, courage and resilience of so many here. The way they make a living is so very challenging. And here we are, zipping through in our landrovers, they wave with grand smiles.

Rock Art

600 years old. Etched into stone with natural dye by the San. The bushman. We are in South Africa. Hiking in a nature preserve, through the bush. Seeing this magnificent landscape by foot is awesome. We come across a small cave, with art, ancient art. The picture shows people, looking at an eland. An eland, the largest antelope, is a mammal well respected. In fact, god like. The San worship many gods. In the image carved into this sacred cave, the god rises above the eland. It is said that when the bushman hunted the eland, they thanked the eland in prayer before taking his life. An amazing glimpse of time passed.

Wild Dogs

Lycaon pictus. The highlight of my holiday. I had never seen a wild dog until last month. It was my mission. Usually when you head out into the bush to find an animal, say a wild dog, they elude you. You pass a vehicle and they say, oh, we just saw a wild dog, just down the road. You follow their directions precisely, nothing. Or you return to the lodge and overhear people talking about watching wild dogs make a kill. This time we were lucky. One of the anti-poaching rangers saw the tracks. We radioed, met him on the road, and drove through the bush. There they were. Nine of them. Brilliant white tails. Beautiful patchy black, brown and white patterns. And, best of all, an exceptional head of hair, tawny colored and parted in the middle. Once common, their numbers have reduced drastically over the past years because of disease and persecution. Endangered. Threatened. Rare. In northern Kenya they are rebounding slightly. The scout we were with said “communities know that tourists want to see them, so they are trying to protect them.” I hope he is right.

Road Shopping

Kittens, puppies, adorable white baby rabbits, parrots. A dozen roses. Bannanas. Sunglasses. Phone plugs, cords, jumper cables. Batiks. Skirts, shirts, pants. DVDs. Newspapers, magazines: Vogue, Time, Economist, Good House Keeping. Rainbow colored dusters. A map of Africa. Phone cards. Pictures, paintings. Kenya flag air freshners. Bubbles. Passport holders. Gum, candy. A blow up plastic spider man. Stuffed animals. These are some of the things I can buy on my way to work without even leaving the car.

Lazy Lions

Maasai Mara, southern Kenya. An afternoon rest. Clearly the lion on the right wanted some more sleep, but her mate woke her up.

Maasai Song

It is dark. The elegant, small lodge is lit with lanterns. Lanterns that remind you of the Sultans. The fire roars in the massive fire place. An Irish man plays acoustic guitar and his voice carries off into the hills. The Maasai who work at the lodge listen intently, wide eyed. When the Irish man finishes, the Maasai are asked to sing. In their red shukas they gather and break into song and dance. It is an ancient tradition, a guttural song and pulsating dance. It is a privilege, an absolute privilege to listen and watch. To be a part of such an ancient custom. What will the world be like without these rich tribes? Will anyone notice?

Scars

Agree with me, a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty ok? Take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived. -- Chris Cleave, Little Bee