Mara

       I had meetings in the Maasai Mara this week, so I decided to spend weekend in a conservancy adjacent to the reserve. The taxi picked me up at 6 am for my flight and we were instantly in a traffic jam. Yes, 6 am in Karen. After crawling along the road for 45 minutes, the driver said 'do you think you are going to make it?' That really calmed my nerves. We made it. Whisked into the airport, got my ticket and boarded. Always hectic in Nairobi.

       We landed on a grass strip in Siana Conservancy, a community owned conservation area east of the reserve. Stepping off the plane I could instantly breath. The stress of traffic, city, smog, moving all rolled off me. Coffee and muffins by the plane, it felt great to be back in the bush. I stayed in a lovely camp set in a valley surrounded by hills. It's been raining hard so it is very lush and green. This is an odd time of the year for intense rains, but weather patterns have been thrown by El Nino and climate change.

       Friday afternoon we went for a bush walk, which is one of my favorite things to do. Seeing wildlife on foot is an entirely different experience and it is a luxury to get out of the vehicle and walk in the landscape. I was cognizant of the buffalo tracks everywhere. Abraham, a Maasai dressed in a red Shuka (blanket) led us. He pointed out different trees and plants as we walked and explained how the Maasai use different leaves, bark and twigs for medicines and tools.

       When he asked us if we knew what to do when a buffalo attacks, some of the people in the group got a bit nervous. 'You should lay down,' he said, 'do not run.' Me, I knew I'd be right behind Abraham and his spear. During the walk we all kept glancing at the sky as it turned from a cloudy grey to a dark black. Some of the guests kept nervously looking up and saying 'perhaps we should head back?' I knew that the guides know the weather, they know the patterns of the sky. Just as the first drop fell, a vehicle emerged from the lodge and we were all inside when the skies opened. The rain was intense and as we sat bundled in Maasai blankets in the mess tent, it was lovely to watch.

       Saturday morning I awoke at 5 am to a dark, yet clear sky. Coffee mug in hand, driving across the plains with an orange sky as the sun rose--there is nothing better. Whenever I am in the Mara, 'god's country' always comes to mind. It is a place like no other. Even without the wildlife, the vast open landscapes, rolling hills, tall grass, an endless plain is awe inspiring. Breathless beauty.

       We saw a pride of six lions lounging on a beautiful rock outcrop, drying in the sun. There were two small cubs whose faces melt you, still spotty in color. Their tan fur was damp from the rains and they laid on the rocks soaking in their warmth and peering down at us with their heads resting on their enormous paws. Gorgeous. The mother, a striking female, sat properly on the rocks gazing over her pride. 

       Later we saw a spectacular male leopard hanging in a tree, a classic scene that is often shown in books, but rare to see. His belly was absolutely full and hung to one side, while his legs straddled the branch. An elephant walked in the distance and the leopard followed his movements. We had a lovely picnic in the plains and I chuckled as our Maasai guide, Issac, an amazing guide, whipped out his selfie stick for a photo. This was the first time I have ever been subject to a selfie stick and it was classic that it was a Maasai's. 

       Another walk on Sunday. It was myself and a Maasai guide. I enjoyed talking with him as we strolled through the acacia woodlands, to hear about his thoughts on the conservancy, Maasai culture, the struggle to make ends meet, to decrease herd sizes as the grasslands are over grazed, to incentivize conservation and to commercialize meet production. We saw Giraffe, eland, zebra, impala and elephant. We ended the walk with sun-downers on a rock called Simba rock overlooking the plains.

       Later I was driven to another camp where I had meetings the following day. We drove along the east side of the Mara Reserve, in a remote area. On the way we got stuck in the mud, really stuck in the mud. As we emerged from the vehicle Maasai started coming to the vehicle to see the problem. Soon they were gathering sticks, digging, pushing, jacking up the car to put branches under neath. Of course, I stick out like a sore thumb, not only a mazungu (white) but a female by herself in the bush, so the kids had a ball watching, touching and laughing with me. It was so very striking that these communities live next to Kenya's most famous reserve, a cash cow, yet, the children speak no Kiswahili, only Maa, a sign that they either have bad schools or do not even go, despite primary education being free. One girl, probably eight, carrying a baby on her back, her sister, spoke Kiswahili and a few words of English. Obviously, something is not working and if we are going to make conservation work long-term we need to figure out how to address these basic problems. 

Hitching a Ride in Rwanda

Flying

There is something soothing about watching the shadow of your small plane glide across Africa's plains. To watch the shadow peacefully float across the tawny grass, the open plains, the savanna woodlands, the herds of ungulates, the red Masai shukas drying in the sun. To watch a flock of white egrets, yellow billed storks and pink flamingos take to the air gracefully as the shadow of our bird passes over them.

'Do not think about the past, do not fret about the future, be in the present.'

There is no better way to be in the present then to be in the wilderness. To be absorbed by the sky, the savanna and the wildlife. To float through the air. To sit peacefully for hours and watch a cheetah stalk her prey, no better way to be in the moment.

Gorilla

Mountain Gorilla. Endangered.

Only found in the Virunga Massif in Rwanda, Uganda and DRC. An extraordinary mammal that reflects an incredible story of recovery. Their population is now at 900 from a low of 250 in the 80's. Their survival however is reliant on strict protection and habitat protection. Their greatest threat--disease, snaring and poaching. Foreign zoos pay a hefty price for baby gorillas, and to get them, they must kill family members.

Once again I was fortunate to see them. The system works incredibly well. Only 80 permits are sold a day for ten habituated groups of gorillas. Trekkers are in the forest following the gorillas, so your guides know where to take you. Once you are with the gorillas, you get max one hour with the gorillas.

I visited the Agasha group--meaning the 'news.' 25 members: 1 Silverback; 12 Adult females; 2 Sub adult female; 3 Juvenile and 7 Babies. I think we saw about 15 of them, including the babies who swung from the vines, did somersaults and played tag. Many of my pictures were blurry becuase they were swinging, playing and moving.

Their fuzzy black fur was covered in bamboo leaves from wrestling each other. Like watching little kids, it's amazing. One of the babies, a year old, found an earth worm and a game of chase followed with all of them trying to get the worm. At one point the silverback walked up the trail we were on, and nearly brushed me. At another point a little gorilla was swinging, I was sitting, leaning against a bamboo and he kept swinging closer, closer....hand stretched out....curious....needless to say the desire to grab his little hand was so very tempting! They are simply awesome.

Last week they had a major ceremony and named 24 new babies. It's amazing how this country celebrates the gorillas. Others should follow Rwanda's lead.

 The hike into the park. The approach is through farm fields.

 Catching a ride.

Silverback above.

Chimpanzee

Southern Senegal. We are on the border with Guinea, in a gallery forest, tracking chimps. We hear a branch break in the distance and move in that direction. I am in a full sweat. It is hot, humid in the forest of Dendefelo Reserve. It is rainy season, so we are soaked. My shoes are like sponges after crossing through a river. The rain has made the forest emerald green, lovely, however it makes tracking chimps difficult. Our guide from the local community walks quietly, with focus, listening, watching. I am following him closely because I do not want to miss the chance of seeing the chimps. We are walking up a loose scree slope, covered with vines, bamboo and debris. Trying to not make a sound while traversing this slope is a dance of sorts, a balancing act. With the crunching of leaves under our feet and the sound of the scree tumbling down the slope I cringe thinking the noise will scare the chimps and they will move further away. Above our heads we see their nests, small clumps of branches and leaves in the tree canopy. They make a new nest every night. We see their droppings under the tree, orange in color reflecting the fruit they eat. Filled with termites. We pass a termite mound and find the sticks they use the fish for termites. The sound of breaking branches is close, I crouch low to see through the forest. I see the branches move and then a flash of black drops from the tree—an arm, back, leg—it’s gone. We follow but not fast enough. After four hours up and down the slopes, listening, stopping, moving cautiously, the sun is starting to set and we surrender to the fact that we will not see the chimps today. A pit in my stomach of disappointment, but given their status, I am happy to know they are here, in this healthy forest. Chimpanzee, Pan troglodytes, is endangered. Like all of Africa’s other great apes. Habitat loss and bush meat poaching is causing their decline. Here in this forest, we are working with partners to ensure that these chimps continue to thrive in a safe haven.  

Elevator

We are at a Ministry building in Yaounde, Cameroon. There is an event taking place in the front, so we enter at an odd entrance in the back. Dim hallways with old carpets are filled with piles, I mean piles, of paper folders reaching the ceiling. There is old furniture and boxes littering the hallways. Some ceiling panels are missing and wires hang in various locations like Christmas lights. We have a meeting on the 17th floor, so we head to the elevator.

In the hallway we wait with dozens of people for the elevator. Now, personal space is something Americans cherish. Here, in Central Africa, forget it. Getting onto a bus, plane, elevator, you name it, there is no personal space. You push, shove, press and find yourself pressed against strangers in a way you would get yelled at for in the USA. Meanwhile, if you try to create you own space, fine, go for it, but you will never get on that bus, plane or elevator in this case.

The elevator doors open, and my colleague yells over the heads of many, get in! The four of us shove and push our way in. There are at least 25 of us now squeezed into this tin box. It is hot, like 90 degrees hot. Little air. Dingy. I wonder if the elevator is even going to be able to move from the ground given the weight. It does. Needless to say, not a high speed elevator, we creep our way up. Sweat is dripping down my back. A woman in a beautifully printed dress is pressed on my one side and a man in a grey suit on the other. Power outages are quite common in Cameroon and most certainly, this place does not have a generator. As we crawl to the 17th floor I pray to whoever is listening that the power does not go out and leave us stuck in the elevator.

The Luxuries When Traveling

I am walking down the hallway of a hotel with a toilet seat.

I am in Yaounde, Cameroon. Staying at Marli Palace Hotel. Now, you must appreciate the term 'palace' in the name of the hotel, and then consider that there is nothing palace like about this hotel. The last time I was here I had to negotiate hard with the hotel staff for a towel. This time, a toilet seat.

So how is it I found myself walking down the hallway with the toilet seat?

Once settled into my room, I realized I had no toilet seat. Given I was at the hotel for five nights, well, a toilet seat is a luxury for which I thought worth negotiating. After some sweet talking, a maid showed up at my door with one. Later that afternoon, after meetings with the Minister of Environment, I got back to the hotel and my air conditioner had spewed water across the room. So, management moved me to a new room. In the process of moving I locked my room key in the room.

Ok, no problem, I went to the front desk to get the extra key, only to learn, there are no extra keys, none. The key I had is the only key and it was locked in my room, along with my wallet, passport, computer, you name it. Also consider that all these discussions are in French. So while I may think I know what is going on, chances are I am totally off base given my rudimentary French, despite the years of study.

A man with excellent red shoes and matching red underwear, classic low hanging jeans to reveal them just a smidgen, arrives at my locked door in the stifling hot hallway, with a dinner knife to open the door. For the next 40 minutes on his hands and knees he tries to pry the door open, trip the lock, all with a kitchen knife. Now remember the hotel is not a palace, so the knives are not strong sterling. The man went through a number of knives, bending and snapping many as he tried desperately to open the damn door. Also consider the temperature in Yaounde, hot and humid. So the poor man is drenched in sweat trying to open the door.

After some time, we start to consider rappelling off the roof to get into the window, yes, I am serious, how else do you get into a room? We had identified the route to the roof, the window etc... Just as we were exploring this option, the red shoe man successfully cranked the door open. After slipping the guy some cash, moving my luggage to the new room, I realized there was no toilet seat in the new room; thus, returned to the old room and found myself walking down the hallway with a toilet seat.