The Last of the Great Migrations

Think about that phrase. "The last of..." It’s become a familiar phrase—too familiar. “The last of the great places.” “The last indigenous cultures.” “The last primates.” “The last hunter gatherers.” “The last glacier…” We have the capability to secure global diversity in all of its forms, cultural and natural, while developing as a global society, yet we are not. It’s a tragedy of massive proportion. Our cleaver western civilization has yet to rise to the occasion and we are surely running short on time.

We recently went to see one of the last great migrations. In the transboundary landscape stretching between Kenya and Tanzania is the famous Serengeti National Park and Masai Mara. Millions of wildebeest reside in this area—million. According to the Masai, after God created all the mammals, they took all the left over parts and made the wildebeest. Indeed, these gangly creatures are a sight to see with their long face, blond beard, hooked horns, and flat black tail.

Every year in July and August, the wildebeest migrate from the Serengeti north to the Mara in search of grass. Flying into the Mara you see them everywhere, they blanket the landscape. Its mind blowing to see the numbers.

The biggest attraction is a “crossing.” This is when the wildebeest cross the rivers—the Mara River and the Talek River. If there has been a good rainy season, the rivers are high and current strong, making the crossing for the wildebeest a challenge. Add the crocs and carnivores waiting on the other side, and you have a serious challenge.

I’ve been fortunate to see the crossing twice and there is truly nothing like it. To see such a massive amount of mammals in one place and then to watch them cross the river is spectacular. You have to be lucky to catch a crossing, some people wait days. Eventually, the wildebeest and zebra will gather towards the river, drinking and grazing.

“It does not really look like anything is going to happen.”

“Just be patient,” says the guide.

All it takes is one to jump in and they all follow. One mammal takes a leap of faith, literally, and the others hurl themselves into the river in single file. Snorting, jumping, lunging, and trying to make it to “safety” on the other side (never mind the lions in the bush). The noise is outstanding—the zebras bark as they make their way across and the wildebeest snort, so put hundreds of thousands of these mammals together—the sound alone is mind blowing.

You find yourself cheering for them, praying for them. Please, make it, go, go, you can do it. Then out of the corner of your eye you see the crocs slowly, smoothly swim their way towards the chain of crossing wildebeest. As the current pulls them towards the crocs, the wildebeest fight harder, snorts louder and it’s just a matter of which one for the crocs. The croc swims effortlessly to a young wildebeest and with one bite, the wildebeest is theirs. Dozens nabbed in a crossing. Crocs have no tongues, so after they nab their prey, they prop themselves up on the shore at an angle and hurl their victim in the air, gnaw with their sharp teeth, hurl it up again, gnaw again and swallow.

An awesome cycle of life.

Drought and habitat fragmentation have led to a massive decline in wildebeest and zebra in this ecosystem. The latest threat is a proposed highway across the northern part of the Serengeti. A political promise with catastrophic consequences. We are opposing the development, and like most conservation challenges, you do what you can and hope that reason prevails. What else can you do?

The Giant Kingfisher

East Africa gleans much attention for its spectacular wildlife. Lions, cheetahs, elephants and leopards. Their sheer beauty is awe inspiring. What surprises most visitors though is the spectacular birds. One of the most magnificent birds is the Giant Kingfisher. You must admit, any bird or animal that has "giant" as part of its name must merit special attention. This impressive bird is approximately 1.5 feet tall. Its black bill is thick and massive. On a recent trip to southern Tanzania, we watched a Giant Kingfisher fish. It dove into the water like a torpedo with excessive force and came out with an 9” fish. Before swallowing the fish whole, the Kingfisher has to break the fish's bones. We watched in amazement as the Kingfisher smashed the fish on the tree branch where it stood. Holding the fish in its bill it smashed the fish on one side, then it flipped the fish in its bill, and smashed the other side. Blood started to cover the branch. After five minutes of whacking the fish to death and breaking its bones, the Kingfisher flipped the bird in the air and swallowed it whole. Awesome.

You Know It Is A Good Holiday When…

The airstrip where you land is dirt and needs to be cleared of wildlife.

You see elephant everyday.

The only noises waking you at night are hippo, lion and hyena.

You are served fresh fruit every morning: mango, pineapple, papaya.

Coffee is delivered to your “tent” every morning. And one morning, the waiter delivering coffee waits patiently while elephants pass and then delivers the coffee.

The only traffic is giraffe in the road.

You wake at 6 am not to go to the office, but to go on a guided walk before it gets to hot.

You watch two crocodiles fight over an impala from your private veranda.

You are so remote your blackberry does not work.

Dinner is proceeded by drinks by a fire on the sandy river bank.

The only strain or stress is searching for cheetah, lion and leopard.

You are guided back to your tent every night by an elaborately dressed Maasai Warrior.

The only accident you get into is bumping into a hippo in your boat.

You fall asleep by 9.30 pm.

You watch the sunset in the middle of a massive river.

You watch elephant brush by your tent in the evening from your bed.

Now, that’s a Good Holiday.

A Scary Escalator

Airports. Its amazing to look around airports, especially in Africa. All colors, shapes, ages and sizes. Different traditional and urban clothing. You wonder where people are going. Where were they are coming from. And you wonder their story. At the Nairobi airport recently I checked in for an early am flight. In the passport control area there was a Somali Family of about 12. They represented all generations, a young baby, toddlers, a young couple, mother, father, grandmother and grand father. They were dressed in nice robes and traditional wear. You could tell they were wearing their best clothes. Two young boys, one about 3 years old and the other 8 were dressed in crisp shiny suits. One of them silver and the other gold.

The 8 year old and his father and another sibling passed through the passport check point. The father got on the escalator to go to the gate area and the 8 year old boy stopped at the bottom. The boy looked in freight at the escalator and slowly stepped forward. As the stairs pulled him forward, he leaned backwards and nearly fell on his back. Legs in the air, he shuffled back quickly to safe ground and stared up at the silver moving stairs. He tried once more with great trepidation, but nearly fell again and quickly backed away. The escalator to the right was broken, not moving, yet the boy had no idea whether it would suddenly start, so walking up these stairs was not an option. His father looked down from the top urging him to get on, waving his arms and shouting instructions, but the boy would not move. He was shaking and tears welled up in his eyes. I was behind the passport check point so could not assist. Finally his dad walked down the other side, and they walked up the broken escalator together.

The rest of the family was going through the passport check point, and after getting my passport stamped the grandfather, the 3 year old in the silver suit and a young girl probably age five approached the escalator. The girl had a shiny gold dress with gold pants underneath. I asked the grandfather if he needed my help, he nodded. The young girl looked up at me with big brown eyes, put her little hand in mind, and together we stepped on the escalator. It was like pulling a child onto a chairlift, I lifted her onto the stair and then at the top did the same. She stood still on the entire ride, looking forward with her eyes wide open. At the bottom however, her brother was petrified of this moving snake. There was no way he was getting on and he cried in terror. I waited at the top with the young girl, as the grandfather gave up on the moving escalator and pulled the young crying boy up the broken escalator. At the top, I handed over the young girl, and we parted ways.

Where were they going? Where had they come from? Often times you see families like this moving, but they did not carry a lot of baggage, so it appeared that they were on some sort of a trip. But then again, how had they arrived having not encountered an escalator. I will never know their story, but what I do know is there are still so many people living so remotely in this world that the site of an escalator brings one to tears.

Living in Extremes

Kenya had one of the worst droughts last year. Approximately 10 million people were facing critical food shortage, the country was rationing electricity and water, and the Kenya Wildlife Service was bulldozing dead animals out of Parks because it was unpleasant for tourists. Small businesses went under because they could not afford generators, tourism lodges laid off thousands of employees because of lack of occupancy, pastoralists moved and fought over grasslands for their livestock, and security issues increased as unemployed and hungry people turned to crime for money. Flying over the landscape during the drought the soils were cracked and hard panned, trees crispy, grass non-existent, and the river beds dry. People and wildlife suffered. The implications of drought are complex and impact every aspect of society: businesses; tourism; crops; electricity; health; and the environment.

When the rains came in April, everyone celebrated. Thank goodness—finally. The earth was in desperate need for water. However, the rains have been so severe, it is crippling the country. Traffic has come to a standstill. Crops washed away. Power is often out. Floods have blanketed the country, washing away people’s homes and even lodges. The massive amount of water accelerates the spread of disease, as hygiene becomes problematic. Like drought the implications of massive amounts of water all at once is complex and permeates all parts of society. Our house girl pays twice as much to get home because the traffic is so bad; therefore, public transport matatus and buses charge more. Young livestock cannot survive such wet climate, seeds are washed out of the fields, people are homeless and business suffers. The fact that Kenya has experienced such extremes within a six month period is staggering. As Kenya tries to get back on track after post election violence and its citizens strive to improve their lives, fighting against nature makes life even more challenging and is emblematic of what lies ahead for the world. Extremes.

The Guards of My Life

My morning starts by leaving the house through the gate at the end of the driveway, which is opened by our askari (guard). He is on duty from 6pm – 7am. He has a round face and a brilliant smile, and wishes me a good day. I then drive out of our street compound, by passing through another gate, opened by another askari. The askaris change shifts often, but most mornings, the askari who lets me out is tall, thin and in uniform, like all the others. This askari has a laughing smile, he is missing a few teeth and he waves enthusiastically. Bending down to make sure I see him through the window, you have no choice but to laugh and wave back passionately.

Guard, Zimbabwe

To get into our office complex at work, I go through another set of guards. In the evening, when leaving work, I pass my favorite askari. No matter how bad my day, this older gentlemen, with a sweet little face and caring eyes simply makes my day. “Good evening madam,” he always says. “How was your day?” He always says that he is fine and “see you tomorrow.” Our conversations our short, but you just want to roll him up and put in your pocket, so that when things are going bad, you pull him out and smile. Little does he know the joy he brings me with his simple greeting. Its the little things in life, right?