Recovering

It has taken me longer than I would like to put together the story of the safari. Partly because there is a great deal to tell, partly because I write too much, and partly because I have picked up a decent cold in transit, which seems to be sapping some of my energy. In any case, here is the first part, with a bit of suspense, although I guess we all know it ends up ok, because I am writing this now...

Safari- Part I

I spent the night before the safari staying at the threadbare but still comfortable enough Hotel 680 in downtown Nairobi, and took advantage of the lack of curfew to head out to a pub to watch the England- South Africa rugby game, but there is nothing special to report there- the tv was small, there was no sound, and South Africa dominated.

So it was no big challenge to wake up on time Saturday morning, check my big bag and my backpack (including my laptop) into bag storage at the 680, and walk the five blocks or so to the offices of Gametrackers Safari Co. I arrived just before the 8:30 check in time and found a few people walking around the office, but not much urgency to get anything done there.

After about 45 minutes of filling out a form, renting a sleeping bag, buying some water, etc. I knew that I would be making the trip with a nice young couple from London- Ben was Welsh, Laura, English, and a pair of ladies from Winnipeg who looked to be around my parents’ age (turns out they are recently retired sisters-in-law- Marlene and Germana- and also very nice people). It seemed like a pretty small group, especially when we saw our vehicle- a huge truck with capacity for about 30 people.

It made a bit more sense when we learned that 9 others would be joining up as the trip went along, but it was still an impressive vehicle, with a crew to match- a driver (Wanjomi), a cook (Gechaga), and a guide (Eldard) to show us around. We received a quick briefing from a woman from the office, and we took off for the Great Rift Valley, with a long drive ahead of us.

Along the way I began to get better acquainted with my traveling companions. I was excited to discover Ben, like any good Welshman, was a devoted rugby fan who just happened to have brought along a Rugby World Cup schedule. I commiserated with him missing the big Wales-Australia match that afternoon, while Laura did a fine job at concealing any disapproval regarding our conversation. They were at the very beginning of their holiday, with a week at the beach in Zanzibar still ahead.

Marlene filled us in on the work her daughter was doing in Nairobi in pursuit of her PhD in agronomy. Germana had come along after her brother, Marlene’s husband was unable to make the trip for health reasons. I had initially thought they may be from the upper midwest of the US, but their frequent use of the word eh gave them away.

We stopped about 3 hours into the trip to take a look down at the Great Rift Valley from the escarpment. We were at 8000 feet above sea level, and the valley was a sight to behold- the land simply fell away, first dropping about 500 feet, then a small plateau, then dropping again another 2000 feet or so, all practically sheer cliffs. Unfortunately it was a bit foggy up there, so it was tough to take good pictures, and of course the view was also accompanied by the requisite souvenir shops and aggressive salesmen, who outnumbered our party (the only visitors) by about 3-1.

When we got back on the road and made our way down the escarpment, we came to discover that the roads through the valley left a fair amount to be desired. Much of the stretch to Nakuru was under construction, and apparently had been for some time. Our rugged vehicle was quite capable of handling the off-roading that was required, but our backs and bums might not have been so well prepared.

We continued on our way until we arrived near Lake Nakuru, where we stopped for lunch. There was a small shaded picnic table in a village that was mostly lined with tanker trucks, but also had the obligatory curio opportunities. We sidestepped the hawkers while waiting for lunch to be prepared and enjoyed a nice repast of fresh salad and cheese sandwiches, then returned to the road.

As we continued north, we passed through the town of Nakuru, and several villages selling what looked like vodka bottles full of an amber liquid. I originally thought it might be some potent local elixir, but was relieved (and maybe a bit disappointed) to discover it was only honey, a local specialty. We also passed across the equator- Eldard suggested we wait until we passed back the next day to take pictures, a reasonable suggestion, but one we would come to regret.

The roads to that point had been decent, but as we came to the village of Marigat, we discovered another stretch of road that was perhaps not quite up to code, and then we came to small river. Eldard told us it was not usually a river, but a dry river bed, and that our truck was quite capable of crossing it. I believed him, but I was also a bit concerned about the rushing water and the large crowd of 60-70 locals who had gathered around the banks to watch the action there.

Wanjumi plunged the truck in headlong, making for the most direct line to the other side. He was receiving a variety of advice from the spectators, but because it was in Swahili and because he was sitting in a separate cab, and I really can’t say which of the advice he heeded. In any case, he should have consulted someone else, as we came to standstill about 20 meters into the water. At that point he tried to reverse, but only dug in further. And now there was plenty of advice coming in.

Eldard stripped to his shorts, took off his boots, and jumped down to the rocky river bed to see what he could do. The rest of us stayed in the truck and occupied our time coming up with theories on what may have happened and how we could get out while we watched much smaller vehicles take a circuitous route around our truck and across to the other side, following local guides who splashed ahead and showed where the shallows were. Some of them were fellow tourists, who enjoyed waving to us and laughing.

Several vehicles attempted to tow us out, but none of them were up to the task, and the situation was worsening as the loudest thunder clap I have ever heard foretold of rising water levels in the river bed. Dusk came around 6, and darkness was following, when Eldard told us that we should get in the Landcruiser that had pulled up near our vehicle, that it would take us to the campsite, and we should leave our bags behind and they would be safe with the crew.
A narrow metal gangplank was created to convey us from one vehicle to the next, keeping us dry, and our driver Moses told us he was an employee of the Roberts Camp where we were to stay the night. He succesfully ferried us to the other side and made a quick drive to the campsite. He suggested we order food from their restaurant and that we sleep in one of their cabins for the night, as our food and our camping equipment would be unlikely to make it.

Initially we were concerned about who would pay the extra costs, but we did not have many other options, so we settled in for the night, with no word from our crew back at the river. To my surprise, and to Ben’s delight, the campsite actually had satellite tv and was showing rugby. They had cold beer, decent pizza, and a comfortable cottage which allowed everyone to have their own bed, under mosquito nets, and even indoor plumbing.

In the morning, we were woken up and encouraged to report to the dock to take the boat ride we had been scheduled to take the night before. We went out for an hour long tour and saw families of hippos, some 30 species of birds, and learned a bit about the area. Lake Baringo is a freshwater lake, with brown water due to all the sediment carried in from the surrounding mountains. The unseasonal rains of this year had brought the banks well beyond their usual level, with many trees and grasses now under water. The ride was quite pleasant, and we returned to the campsite feeling optimistic about the rest of the trip.

That optimism quickly turned when we sought out Moses for news of our crew, vehicle, and bags. He was evasive about any news, telling me he had heard nothing, and that he did not have Eldard’s cell phone number, despite the fact I had seen them conversing the night before. With no other food in sight, Marlene and Germana ordered breakfast from the restaurant, but I was holding out for some confirmation that our food was not on the way.

Unfortunately, that confirmation came in the form of a bearded white man with an Irish accent who came to tell us he had a bit of bad news to share. It seems that all of our bags had been stolen in the night, and that our truck could not make it over the river, which was now unpassable. We discovered his name was Mark, and he ran the campsite. He could not understand how our guides could have allowed this to happen, but he thought it important that we know.

Mark explained that it was common in Kenyan society to try to keep people from learning bad news, and he told us that he had originally been asked not to tell us yet, that it was too soon. He asked us not to hold it against them, saying it was a cultural difference, and that people would not even tell family members if someone had died- they might suggest someone come home because their mother was sick, when in fact she had already passed away.

Marlene and Germana were around to hear all of this, and I went back to the cabin to break the news to Laura and Ben. It certainly came as something of a shock to each of us, and of course the immediate reaction was to think of what had been lost. We had asked the night before if we should take our bags, and when we got into Moses’ vehicle there was actually space for them, but we were assured that the bags were safe and we should go on. Even so, the other four had at least taken smaller bags with them, which included their cameras and some of their toiletries, etc. I had no smaller bag, so I had only what was in my pockets, which fortunately included my wallet and my passport, but otherwise amounted to 4 sticks of chewing gum, insect repellant, and a receipt.

We tried to be philosophical about it. We talked about not letting it ruin our trip. We began making lists of what was lost. I in particular was worried about not becoming a burden on others, recognizing that I had probably lost the most and that I also did not have a close friend with me to lean on for support. So I tried to take up a positive attitude and encourage others to do the same, and to everyone’s credit there was no whining and very limited anger. It was what it was, and it was only stuff. Plus insurance would surely cover it.

Mark, for his part, was terriffic. He was in contact with the Gametrackers front office, and the General Manager David had encouraged him to take care of us, to make sure we were fed and to comp us our drinks at the bar and keep us in the cottage. He did all that and more, telling us his own story of coming to Africa on Safari with his young family 6 years ago and deciding to stay.

We met his young daughters, we enjoyed Tuskers and rugby together, and he was generous enough to sit with me for around an hour, just telling stories and sharing our experiences- he had been a student at Trinity, where I studied for my junior year. Basically we shot the bull in a manner that would have been quite familiar to our ancestors, and it helped me enjoy the day despite the fact that we were missing out on our entire planned itinerary and I had likely lost over $1000 in personal property, including my camera, my Ipod, my binoculars, my brand new Ireland Rugby World Cup jersey (Mark would keep an eye out for it on the locals, and take it for himself if he saw it), and some of my favorite t-shirts. Of course I was most upset about the t-shirts- everything else could be replaced, but I am not likely to find a 1995 CYO Basketball All-Stars t-shirt anytime soon.

Around 3:30 we piled into Mark’s car to have a look at the river, with the possibility of crossing on foot in our minds. It was a remote possibility, as I myself am not that bold and I certainly did not want to be responsible for pressuring anyone into sustaining a broken hip. The rushing river was enough to convince us to stay dry and well fed at Roberts Camp, but there were people crossing on foot with the aid of strong local youths, and there was also the sight of a huge military truck crossing the river. A smaller vehicle was stuck halfway across, and Mark was heroically trying to tow it out, but thankfully the army finished the job before he burned out his clutch.

After another nice night in Mark’s care (including information that perhaps Marlene and Germana’s bags had been recovered), we were just waking up and taking advantage of the showers when the maid came to inform us we had visitors. I walked over to the restaurant to find a sheepish Eldard and a new driver who had just crossed the river in a new truck- shorter, but even more rugged and higher off the ground. We took breakfast once more at the restaurant, which was now running out of provisions with no supply line across the river, and took off. There was some brief drama as we angled ourselves to plunge in, but never any real doubt once we started across, and we were on the other side by 9 am, with only the small matter of stopping at the police station to get reports for insurance purposes and retrieve whatever they had recovered in terms of bags. It was just going to be a brief stop...