Day Eight (Final Day) of our East African Safari: Goodbye Lake Naivasha; Long Drive to Nairobi; Game Drive in Nairobi National Park; Visit to the Giraffe Center; Last Lunch at Karen Blixen Garden Restaurant; Visit to Karen Blixen Museum; Homeward Bound—from Nairobi to Bombay

Friday, July 18, 2025

Day Eight (Final Day) of our East African Safari:

Goodbye Lake Naivasha; Long Drive to Nairobi; Game Drive in Nairobi National Park; Visit to the Giraffe Center; Last Lunch at Karen Blixen Garden Restaurant; Visit to Karen Blixen Museum; Homeward Bound—from Nairobi to Bombay

Leaving Enashipai Resort:

We awoke on the very last day of our safari—sorry, in a way, that like all good things, it too had ended However, I must admit that we were all a bit fatigued and the thought of returning to comforting routine wherever our homes were, was quite attractive. Many of our travel companions were headed off to the island of Zanzibar (also a part of Tanzania), but several of us were simply headed home (to the US, UK or India).

I took a few last parting shots of beautiful Enashipai Resort by daylight as we were leaving—sorry, once again, that we did no justice to so glorious a property. After last night’s downpour, it had continued to bucket down and it was just charming to sit on our little balcony in our room to watch rain stream down over the trees and on the emerald lawns of the property.

Breakfast at Enashipai Resort:

Yes, we breakfasted again like royalty at Enashipai Resort—there was a large crowd of Orientals and they forced us to stand in long lines for special orders. I decided to skip the lines and go instead for a helping of the house granola which I ate with a passionfruit yogurt (in an imitation of the kind of breakfast I eat daily at home in Bandra—my own homemade granola with fat-free yogurt and fruit). I also ate the readymade scrambled eggs with pork sausage, pork bacon, baked beans and sauteed mushrooms and I washed it all down with orange juice. Then, we were piling into our safari vans, after I was able to retrieve my baseball cap that I had left behind in my room (thanks to the attentive and ever obliging Reception staff), and off we went.

b>Long Drive to Nairobi:

It was our long last ride together and the six of us (the Sexy Six-some) were back in the saddle again with Steve at the wheel as we inched towards Nairobi—inched because no sooner did we reach the highway than we were caught in the midst of what seemed like hundreds of lorries, fully stocked with cargo, heading in the same direction. They slowed down our progress considerably all along the verdant Rift Valley.

This time round, we did not make any rest room stops. We merely tried to make up for lost time and headed straight to Nairobi National Park. This was actually a sudden addition to our itinerary. We were supposed to go directly to the Elephant Orphanage in the Park; but as we had not spotted any rhinos yet on our many game drives and as we were determined to tick off the last member of the Big Five off our list, we changed course.

A few members of our party decided to go, on schedule, to the David Sheldrake Elephant Orphanage where they would see young baby jumbos that had been abandoned by their mothers or that had been left orphaned as a result of poaching for elephant tusks—still a huge hazard in East Africa. They felt that they’d had enough of the game drives and wanted to do something different. Others felt that if there was even a slim chance of seeing a rhino, they did hope it would happen. Accordingly, our group split in two: one group went to the Elephant Orphanage; the other headed towards the entrance of Nairobi National Park—Llew and I were in the latter group.

At Nairobi National Park:

Nairobi National Park has the distinction of being the only national park in the world that actually borders a capital city. In fact, it is a bit incongruous (once you are in the park) to be able to see animals roaming freely with city skyscrapers in the distance. If you can recall, I had said, in my very first blog post that our Kenya Airways flight from Bombay had flown directly above the Park and that we had a very clear view of it when we were landing. Little did I know that, a week later, we would be in the Park ourselves.

At the entrance, there were rest rooms and each of us made a beeline for them. Some of us found the enticements of the gift shop too hard to resist and we headed there to buy last-minute souvenirs. I got a magnet of Kenya and of Nairobi. When everyone had finished purchasing their goodies, we began our survey of this Park and our last game drive—our last ditch effort to find the elusive rhino.

Rhino Sightings—At Last!

Well, we were not disappointed and we did not have to wait too long. En route to seeing these huge animals, we passed by elegant storks in the trees (around a swamp), many giraffes, ostriches crossing our path (somehow these sights never got old) and a magnificent male lion. I was super intrigued, as we were watching the lions, first walk right past us and then settle down in a clearing, that there was a plane right above him as he sunbathed there. In fact, I got a great shot of the plane in the air and the lion on the ground in the same frame. And then, there they were: a pair of rhinos, not too far away, but with their backs turned to us and their heads bowed down as they grazed. Ok, so Mission Accomplished! That To-Do/To-See List was well and truly ticked. However, we were greedy for a better sighting and our drive around the Park continued.

And then we saw them: a splendid pair—mother and child. There were ever so close to us (merely ten feet from the road) and they were in absolutely no hurry to depart. Our driver, Steve, was able to send out a radio alert to the other vans in our party and, before long, they too had arrived at the spot. For the next fifteen to twenty minutes, we truly had our fill of this extraordinary sight. We had come face to face with the mystical rhino—a grand full-grown specimen with the most awesome pair of horns and her little one—a juvenile—whose defence mechanism had still to grow. Oh, we took a bunch of pictures as they stood, ate, sat down, rolled over, changed positions and finally moved away. What a sight for sore eyes! And how fruitful our safari had been! We were thrilled and ready to move on. Little did we guess what a crazy experience lay in store for us.

Ghastly Adventure—This Time with Baboons!

And then, we had a truly horrific adventure! When Steve, our driver, decided to stop at wayside rest rooms (after two hours of animal-seeking), we noticed that the spot was surrounded by a large family of baboons. John immediately demurred from using the rest rooms, but Doreen insisted. A couple of us also needed to go—and so stop we did!

It was, at this point, that Steve told us he would be happy to take a picture of the six of us in our van while standing in it. So, Steve stepped out and asked all of us to pose while standing along one side of the van. As we smiled happily for his camera, we had no clue what was happening behind us—on the other side of our van! Doreen was the first to spot it and she yelled, “Baboon, Baboon!” Now, we were aware that there were baboons all around us. Little did we know that what she meant was that there was one INSIDE OUR VAN!!!! It was only when she screamed, “Its Here! It’s Inside!” that we understood that we had been invaded by a baboon. Llew and I were at the driver’s end of the van while Doreen and John were right at the back, with Louella and Albin in the center. In a jiffy, the four of them got down on their knees and cowered at the very back of the van while Llew and I were left standing and watching the hideous thing. He looked around and then grabbed the brown paper packet in which the souvenir gifts that Doreen had bought for her kids were stored. And before you could say, “Big Baboon” he was off with his loot with Doreen yelling, “My Stuff! My Gifts! They’re gone!”

Can you even imagine the panic in our van? We were really frightened. Then, Steve told us not to panic—if there was no food in the packet, the baboon would discard it. And that was exactly what he did. He tore open the packet, surveyed the contents, found nothing edible and flung it with disdain near the rest room doors. Llew raced behind him, retrieved the packet and picking up the contents which he had spread all over, returned them to poor Doreen who was, by this point, seriously hyperventilating! As for poor Louella, somewhere in the panic generated by this to-do, one of the members of our van had scratched her right on the face. Her cheek bore three distinct scratch marks—this alone tells you how petrified we all were by the presence of a menacing baboon in our van.

With the Ladies rest room door just a step away from us, Doreen disappeared into one stall, Louella into the other, leaving yours truly outside waiting for my turn. And then, guess what? A large baboon followed me into the toilet area leaving me in pure panic. “Open the door! Open the Door”, I screamed. “ One of them has come here”. Hearing me, Louella said, “One second. I’m almost done.” A second later, she opened the door and I tore into the stall with her and locked the door. My heart was palpitating and I was terrified.

Then, just when we thought we had escaped an Assault By Baboon, another huge baboon entered—yes! He entered our very stall—the one in which Louella and I were huddling together! As our stall was adjoining Doreen’s, I was certain he was in her stall to begin with and had made his way to ours! But as Doreen had not seen him at all (you can bet she’d have yelled blue murder if she was in there with him), it is possible that he came directly into our stall from a high window in the back wall of our stall.

Now serious panic ensued. We had to get away from the monster right there, in a tiny stall with us! In enclosed space! Of course, we were caught between the devil and the deep sea! Stay in the stall and risk being attacked by the lone baboon or get outside and face a whole dozen of them! Of course, since human instinct is to get away from clear and present danger, we moved to leave the stall. Except that our hands were shaking and I simply could not get the latch opened! I tried turning it one—no luck! I tried the other—it was struck! I tried the first way again…and this time, it opened! Louella and I just tore out of the stall and got into open ground panting at our efforts. Meanwhile, Doreen walked out of her stall, oblivious to the experience we had just had! She was grateful we did not tell her that the baboon had very likely been in her stall behind her. Outside, the gentlemen waited and, as we told them the story of our Close Encounter of the Simian Kind, they exploded with laughter! Of course, by this stage, we were all panic-laughing, but I can assure you we’d all had a turn and it caused massive hilarity in our van in the aftermath.

A Visit to the Giraffe Center:

With enough excitement than we could take for one morning, we joined the rest of our group at the Giraffe Center—which was also on our itinerary. The Center is one of the most visited parts of a tour of Nairobi and we were pleased to be able to see these graceful, elegant animals up close and personal. The Center was founded in 1979 by Josk Leslie-Melville, a Kenyan citizen of British descent and his American-born wife, Betty. Their objective was to save the Rothschild Giraffe of which only 130 were left in East Africa. Their program saved calves and by a project, based on breeding giraffe in captivity, they were able to save the species.

At the Center, we were asked to wash our hands and presented with a small coconut shell containing giraffe food pellets. We were permitted to walk along a high walkway with a viewing platform that overlooks a huge pen in which several giraffes roamed. They came up to the barrier and we were able to feed them the food pellets. This was truly a novel experience for all of us and the source of a large number of pictures. When we were done feeding these stately animals, we were taken into a room where we listened to a short talk on the origin of this Center, its aims and objectives. That part of the visit done, we were asked to wash our hands again and then return to our waiting vehicles.

Lunch at the Karen Blixen Garden Restaurant:

By this time, what with our long drive to Nairobi, our long morning’s game drive, our baboon adventures, etc. we were ready to sit down calmly in some place lovely and enjoy our last meal together. This turned out to be in a really special place called the Karen Blixen Garden Restaurant.

But long before we actually got to the spot, I have to tell you that my attention was rivetted to the locality in which we were driving. This whole area was completely different to the other parts of Nairobi with which we had become familiar—parts engulfed in urban chaos as in most Third World capital cities. However, here, in this area named Karen (after the Danish writer, Karen Blixen—more about her later),we were in another world. This is Colonial Kenya. This is where the British colonial officials had congregated when they were the rulers of this land. This was where, as in the case of most of the colonies that they had conquered, they tried to create a little bit of the British Home Counties by imitating their own domestic outlook and lifestyle. And so, there were neatly-parceled portions of land, each of which had an English-style cottage or bungalow at its center, surrounded by the most beautiful English Country gardens.We could have been in Hampshire or Richmond in England. In this anaesthetized part of the city, they lived insular lives, far from the madding crowd, away from the confusion of native Kenyan life for which they had nothing but disdain. I was gawking at these beautiful architectural accomplishments and drew the attention of my van-companions to Karen so that they would not miss the study in lifestyle contrasts that colonialism had created in all the colonies. I should also add that the entire area is named Karen after the writer who put Nairobi on the global literary map by her best-selling books and the romantic notion of life on the Bush that she peddled for the consumption of the world.

Eventually, we did arrive at the restaurant where we were immediately charmed by its location, setting and décor. The property is devoted to stunning landscaped gardens in which low-slung structures support a kitchen, dining nooks, a bar, a lobby, etc. We were led to our tables where we sat down and very casually ordered drinks (not included in our package). It was decided to order a bottle of white wine for the table (Llew had red) and together we sipped, for the last time, at the refreshing elixir on a warm but humidity-free afternoon.

Lunch took the form of a grand buffet that offered everything one could possibly desire—yes, there was soup (I had some—Carrot-Ginger Soup) and a plate of delightfully fresh greens: arugula with fresh strawberries and a sprinkling of golden raisins and seeds. Others gravitated towards the Indian selection picking dal, curries, etc. I requested fresh penne pasta be made for me with alfredo sauce and with some cold cuts (ham, salami), it made a very handsome lunch indeed. Yes, there was also a laden desserts bar that was simply swarming with yellow jacket bees—which scared me! However, I managed to get at some of the chocolate mousse and enjoyed it immensely.

this point in time, several of our group members had already begun to say their last goodbyes to us as they were headed to Zanzibar and needed to be dropped off to the airport for their flight. Others had late-afternoon flights to board back to the US as they too said their long and sad farewells to us. At our table, Frances and Ayaz would be spending two more days in Nairobi. They were already worn out and preferred to take the rest of the afternoon very easy. Marilyn and Brian chose to hang out with them.

Llew and I, however, had other plans. I could not imagine leaving Nairobi without visiting the Karen Blixen Museum as we were literally just a five-minute ride away from it. We requested our driver Peter (who would also be driving us to the airport, later in the evening) to take us there. He readily agreed. Doreen, who is also deeply interested in authors and literature and who had seen both movies, ‘Out of Africa’ and ‘Babette’s Feast’—both of which are based on literary works by Blixen—decided to come along with us. And so, we had the last memorable excursion of our trip.

A Visit to the Karen Blixen Museum:

The writer in me was deeply excited. I love visiting the homes of fellow-writers: Shakespeare at Stratford-on-Avon; Charles Dickens and Thomas Carlyle in London; Jane Austen in Hampshire; the Brontes in Haworth, Yorkshire; Virginia Woolf’s Home in Lewes in Sussex, England; Thomas Hardy in Dorchester in Dorset, England; Victor Hugo in Paris, France; William Faulkner in Oxford, Mississippi; R.K. Narayan in Mysore; R. L. Stevenson in Edinburgh, Scotland; Hemingway in Key Werst, Florida—the list goes on, of the author homes I have visited. If a city that I am visiting has the home/museum of a writer to visit, you can bet I will be inside. So to have the opportunity to visit the home of Karen Blixen (aka Issac Dinesen) was not to be sneezed at. I was thrilled that we had two hours in which to become better acquainted with the writer before the museum closed for the day at 6.00 pm. Arriving at the museum, we paid $10 each to enter and were presented with a sweet female Docent who would take us on a guided tour of the house.

A Word About Karen Blixen:

Karen Blixen was born in 1885 in Rungsted, Denmark, where she grew up. After meeting and marrying the Swedish Baron Bror von Blixen-Finecke, she became known as Baroness Blixen. Her husband’s family invested $500,000 in creating coffee plantations in Kenya. This brought the newly-weds to Nairobi, where in the shadow of the Ngong Hills, they set up the Mbopani Coffee Estate.

As a bored colonial wife with not much to do in the early 20th century, Blixen turned to writing. She wrote originally in Danish, then translated her own books to English. Her husband was famously unfaithful to her and it was not long before she contracted syphilis from him (in 1915). All sorts of medical remedies were tried out on her and she soon showed symptoms of heavy metal poisoning. Struggling with ill health and a crumbling marriage, she was shocked that her books, when selected for Books of the Month Club, became best sellers and made an internationally famous writer of her. She was repeatedly nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature, but she never won it.

A few years later, she and the Baron were divorced and Karen was free to pursue her relationship with the British big game hunter, Denys Finch-Hatton. This love affair is detailed in her autobiographical book, ‘Out of Africa’ which became an Academy Award film starring Meryl Streep and Robert Redford. He began to lead safaris in Africa for wealthy clients and eventually died in the crash of his Gypsy Moth in 1931. Plagued with poor health and with her coffee plantation in the financial doldrums, Blixen returned to Denmark where she lived for many decades until her own death in 1962, by which time she had become a celebrated writer.

Visiting the Inside of Blixen’s Home:

To visit Karen Blixen’s Home in Nairobi is to enter a colonial time-capsule. Indeed, time stands still on this homestead which features a low, one-story structure surrounded by sprawling gardens in vast property. Inside, we were walked along a long corridor where we saw large blow-up photographic portraits of Karen as she looked while she lived in this home. She was always a slim and elegant woman and her portraits present her in this manner, surrounded by gardens or dogs—all the trappings of European colonial life.

Next, we walked into her Dining room which carried the original furniture of her years, several of her paintings (she was also an artist who, in her younger years, had studied at the Royal Academy of Art in Copenhagen, Denmark). Portraits of two native Africans who had served on her staff are in this room. There is also the original china that she used while entertaining and the table is set for guests.

In the next room, the living room-cum-study, we saw her in her favorite room which features a cozy fireplace, bookcases and a large desk at which she wrote most of her books. I am always enchanted by these settings as I do believe that in an earlier life, I was actually an Edwardian lady myself! I loved the pictures on the wall, the knick-knacks with which she surrounded herself, her own set of clothing in one of the closets, the elephant leg bedside table in her bedroom and other little elements that are too numerous to enlist. We were also taken into the kitchen which still sports some of the rudimentary implements and utensils that were used in her day. The toilets were outside the home as there was no running water and no electricity in her time. Sadly, we were not allowed to take any pictures inside the house—so I had to commit all of it to memory.

Exploring the Garden:

Once our tour of the Home was completed, we were led out into the gardens where we examined a pair of granite grinding stones that had been shipped to Nairobi from India and which were fashioned into coffee tables for the garden. We then walked to the far end of the garden where we were able to look upon a huge original coffee grinding machine that was used by the family in their coffee business—the one that, eventually, went bust. It was in one of the nooks of this machine that we spotted a hirrack—a small rodent-like creature with great beady eyes that is found all over the African Bush.

With our tour of the garden done—we could take pictures of the exterior of the house and the gardens but not the interior—we looked at some paintings and sculptural art in the grounds that were for sale before we stepped into the gift shop. Here I was fortunate enough to find a magnet of Kilimanjaro (as I had not bought one while we were in the vicinity and could not find another one anywhere else—this was sheer luck indeed). I also bought a set of spoon, fork and knife—the handles were made of horn, the rest were made from bone. I thought it was a fitting souvenir of our travels in Africa and I was delighted to have them be my final buy in this country and at a museum that I really did want to remember.

Journey to Nairobi Airport…and then Back Home (to India):

And with that marvelous, memorable visit to Blixen’s Home and Museum, our travels in East Africa came to an end. All that was left was for Peter, our driver, to take us back to the restaurant to pick up John, Brian and Marilyn so that we could all be dropped off at the airport. The drive took about 45 minutes and once there, we went through Security and other formalities before being given our boarding passes. We said Bye to our friends for the last time—thinking we would not se them again—and were off. Llew and I did some duty free shopping for alcohol and chocolates to take back to India and could then relax fully.

That done, we made our way up to the Pride of Africa Lounge on the upper floor and having about two hours to kill before boarding time, we ordered drinks. I had a gin and tonic while Llew had a glass of South African Stellenbosch red wine as we helped ourselves to some of the bar snacks. And then, when it came time to board our flight, we made our way downstairs.

Unbelievably, we ran into Doreen, John, Brian and Marilyn too as they were at their gate, not far from ours, waiting for their own flight to New York. We found out that our flight was delayed by about an hour and so we had some more time to shoot the breeze with them before the last and final call for our flight was announced and we said our goodbyes to them and left.

A Most Comfortable Flight to India:

And so, we took the red eye flight to Bombay. This time round, we were awake and enjoyed the comfortable Business Class seats and Service including drinks and dinner—both of us had a glass of champagne followed by a lovely new cocktail that I had discovered in Africa—a mixture of Bailey Irish Cream and Cognac. Llew declined to have dinner (he was not hungry) but I had the Fish Curry with Pilaf as the Lamb Chops I had ordered were gone—they had only received one order of it and it was taken by a passenger just before me—drat! Still, my Fish Curry was not half bad and I enjoyed it before I made myself comfortable for the night on the reclining seat that became almost as flat as a bed.

By the time dawn was breaking in the Eastern sky, six hours later, it was time for us to land. It would be about 7.00 am in Bombay, a perfect time to arrive on a Saturday morning when the city had not yet stirred. We cleared Immigration and Customs and arrived at the Pre-Paid Taxi counter from where we made our way home to Bandra in under two hours. It was about 9.00 am when we entered our flat and I have to say that despite having had the best, most memorable time in the world, it was terrific to enter our Home Sweet Home. I feel like this after ever single trip we take—this intense feeling of pleasure when you get back home, sink into your own sofa, shower in your own bath tub and sleep in your own bed. It gives truth to the adage: Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like Home.

Conclusion:

Thank you so much for following me on this wild (pun intended) voyage to the middle of nowhere on Planet Earth. Safaris are truly trips like no other as they take you into the natural habitat of creatures other than human ones. We had enjoyed close contact with some of the earth’s most fascinating creatures, we had learned so much about them and made friends with the people who share their space with them on a daily basis.

We’d seen one of our party members go through a medical emergency (John) and come through it unscathed; we’d seen another member of our group suffer a life-threatening crisis (Amani) and we’d been instrumental in saving his life; we’d changed a tire on the Mara in the midst of roaring lions; we’d had frights in close quarters with terrifying animals; we’d seen the Big Five, the Ugly Five and what I like to call the Small Thousands! Most important of all, our purpose in coming on this safari had been vindicated: We were part and parcel of the Great Migration, having walked in the vicinity of thousands of animals on their annual journey across the African plains. It was a sight we would never forget—and we had photographs and video to remind us, when our memories blurred. We made wonderful new friends among our tour party and renewed friendship with others whom we’ve known for years. We now share experiences in common that bind us forever.

We have a lot of folks to thank for making these travel experiences and memories possible—and I had done so, at the appropriate times on our journey. All that is left now is for me to thank you all for being my armchair-companions over the past ten days and for the encouraging comments you have sent my way as you have read each installment. Please feel free to tag my blog post links to your Facebook and Instagram accounts. Also, please note that my blog, Rochelle’s Roost in London, contains hundreds of blog posts on the dozens of countries in which I have lived or traveled through the decades. Please feel free to browse through any or all of the entries, when time permits or the travel bug bites you.

I now take your leave. Until the road rises up to greet us—whether we travel in the same direction or indeed go our separate ways—God Speed!

Until next time, Hakuna Matata (No Troubles, No Worries).

Day Seven of Our East African Safari: Breakfast at Mara Maisha Tented Camp; Long Drive from the Mara to Lake Naivasha; Boat Ride on the Lake; Make-shift Shelter from Freezing Rainstorm in Tin Shack; Guided Visit at Maasai Museum; Last Drinks and Dinner at Enashipai Resort

Thursday, July 17, 2025

Day Seven of Our East African Safari

Breakfast at Mara Maisha Tented Camp; Long Drive from the Mara to Lake Naivasha; Boat Ride on the Lake; Make-shift Shelter from Freezing Rainstorm in Tin Shack; Guided Visit at Maasai Museum; Last Drinks and Dinner at Enashipai Resort

I awoke today with a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. After the trauma of yesterday, my very first thoughts upon awaking were for Amani’s condition. I started my day praying wordlessly that Heaven would be kind to him and bring him back to swift and complete recovery. I thought about his poor family—apparently, he had a young wife, four children and a fifth on the way. What would happen to them, I thought? What about Faith Holidays, I wondered. Since he collapsed in the line of duty, would they reimburse his medical expenses? What sort of healthcare system did Kenya offer? Since he was a Tanzania citizen receiving medical treatment in Kenya (a foreign country), how would his medical insurance work—if indeed he did have insurance? Was there anything we could do as a group to help him or his family members? All these thoughts assailed me and I decided to ask our driver, Steve, for an update on Amani’s condition. Above all, I hoped fervently that we would not have any more such crises to handle.

When I did get out of bed, I turned my thoughts to breakfast and to fueling up well as we had another long day ahead of us—most of it on the road.

A Breakfast for Kings:

In the vast tented Dining Hall, I had another Anglo-Afro Breakfast: Mushroom, Ham and Cheese Omelet, grilled tomato, sauteed mushrooms, a pork sausage, regular British-style baked beans and a small bowl of African red kidney beans in a coconut sauce with Ugali—an African-style, steamed, grey-colored, multi-grain cake similar to idlis. Fortified with this repast, we saw our baggage into our safari van and we were off with Steve who informed me that Amani’s condition was no different from yesterday although he was getting the best available medical attention in Nairobi. I felt comforted as I knew that people do take a long time to recover from strokes— but if he had received timely attention and TLC, he could well thrive. I whispered another prayer for him.

It's a Long Way to Lake Naivasha:

This time, when we set off, the staff of the Mara Maisha Tented Camp waving us off in the time-tested traditions of British colonial hospitality, we had Doreen and John, Albin and Louella, Llew and myself in the van with Steve at the wheel. Yes, it was going to be another long and tedious ride—it took us about 4 hours to reach. Initially, as we were making our way out of the Mara, we passed by herds of topi, gazelle and zebras.

b>All About a Maasai Cattle Fair:

But then we were on a highway of sorts. At this point, while still in the center of Maasai Country, we passed by a very interesting sight: a massive Cattle Fair. We saw droves of Maasai cattle-rearers, all clad in traditional red blankets, hurry towards a vast field in which we also saw thousands of heads of cattle—mainly cows but also goats and sheep. Steve explained that this was a periodic cattle fair at which livestock are bought and sold by local cattle-farmers. He explained that a Maasai man’s wealth is gauged by the number of heads of cattle that he owns and dowry (which exists in the community) takes the form of cattle that a prospective bride’s father gifts to her prospective groom (not much different from the traditional dowry laws that prevail in many parts of the Third World). This, for me, was a fascinating aspect of African Cultural Studies that we learned and understood while on the road.

We also stopped after two hours to use the rest room and to make the mandatory, cursory visit in a local, wayside crafts stall. But, by this point, most of us had purchased the gifts we needed for others or ourselves from the gift shops at the various hotels in which we had stayed.

Arrival and Lunch at Enashipai Resort and Spa:

Eventually, a good four hours later, we caught our first glimpses of Lake Naivasha. The Lake is set in a small little town filled with hotels and resorts and, in no time at all, we were pulling into the spacious driveway of the Enashipai Resort and Spa—a luxury establishment at Lake Naivasha. As soon as we entered the beautifully-appointed, very modern lobby, decorated in a contemporary aesthetic in earth colors, we were informed about the facilities that the Resort offered: a bar, a dining hall, a spa, a pool, a sauna—and even, get this, a Museum! A Museum? Yes, indeed. This hotel could boast the only museum of its kind—one that documents the history and culture of the Maasai. As soon as we heard this, Frances (who has a degree in Art History and has worked at the British Museum in London—one of my favorite museums in the world and one I know like the back of my hand) looked at me, meaningfully, as if to say, “Wouldn’t you like to visit it?” You see, Frances knows that I am a certified, trained Emeritus Docent at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York where I gave Highlights Tours to the public for 27 years! So…you bet, I would like to go—the question was when? The museum was only open till 6 pm—so it was very unlikely we’d be able to fit it within our schedule.

We were also told that our baggage would be brought in from our vans and placed in the lobby to be transferred to our rooms once we obtained keys. But, as most of were starving, by this point, we were quite pleased to wend our way along the picturesquely laid-out property towards the Dining Hall which overlooks the turquoise waters of a most inviting pool. (Sadly, we would not have the time to dive into this one either—essentially, our hotels were simply dining and sleeping quarters for the night before we raced off at the crack of dawn once again for another tiring day of traveling or animal-stalking. I would have killed for the opportunity to have simply spent a whole day taking long walks in the beautifully-landscaped gardens, a dip in the pool or an indulgent massage in their spas. But time was never allocated for such frivolous pursuits!)

Enashipai’s lunch was another tempting and very delicious meal. There was a most creamy and warming Cream of Mushroom Soup for starters and an extensive salad bar. There was a vast Indian section (the influence of at least a century and a half of Indian presence in Kenya, thanks to British-imported Indian indentured laborers into the colony—mainly from Gujarat where vegetarianism prevails—during the late-19th and early 20th century). I bypassed that section altogether and, as always, made a beeline for the Continental section. There, I helped myself to Beef Stew, a Mixed Bean Casserole and (from the Indian section), a papad. I also picked up a small glass of chaas (buttermilk that is seasoned with cumin, curry leaves and pepper and is quite lovely). When we had all eaten well, we were handed over our room keys and told to make sure our baggage had reached our rooms before returning swiftly to the vans for our next excursion. We were off to skim upon the lively waters of Lake Naivasha.

Boating and Watching Wild Life on Lake Naivasha:

It was not long before we were in our vans and at Lake Naivasha—merely a ten minute ride away. There, we were met by sweet boatmen—ours was named Darius—who introduced themselves and told the six of us (from the van) to get into the same boat. We were outfitted with the mandatory orange life suits/floats and then into the pretty turquoise blue boats we piled.

First off, we were treated to really close views of a family of hippos that lived in the Lake. Darius pointed them out to us and rowed really close to enable us to achieve good shots. However, they were mainly motionless. But this stage in the game, we’d seen many hippos—almost always wallowing in shallow water but remaining immobile. Hence, much as we gazed at them in wonder, the novelty of looking at them had certainly worn off.

I have to say that there were already ominous signs looming ahead in the distant skies to indicate that our boating excursion was doomed. As we raised our heads to look at bald eagles and then dropped them to watch the antics of hungry pelicans who swam really close to our boats seeking fresh fish that was thrown to them by the oarsmen, we realized that the sky was definitely fifty shades of grey—maybe more. We took a lot of pictures of each other and of our boating companions in neighboring boats even as our boatmen started off the

motors on our vessels and raced forward.

It was such an exhilarating feeling—to be out on the lake in those boats heading towards a grey and very cloudy horizon. Indeed great big fluffy clouds billowed low in the distant skies—a sure harbinger of the dreadful downpour that was certainly coming our way. And just when we spied Crescent Island and the first giraffe family on it, we felt them: great big drops that fell out of the sky—the rainstorm had arrived! That it could possibly be a passing shower was simply out of the question as we were enveloped in rain clouds, heavy with moisture. There was no doubt a heavy shower was coming and we’d be drenched.

Sheltering in a Tin Shack:

That’s when Darius told us that we’d be headed to a ‘safe island’ and to a ‘safe house’ to weather the storm. Our boats skimmed the waters in unison at a tearing pace, all headed to the same destination. It was like the famous Annual Sailing Regatta at Cowes on the Isle of Wight in England—except that we were not in sail boats! A few minutes later, we were being helped out of the boats on the sand banks that were simply squelching with moisture. All of us were told to make our way into the tin shack that stood ahead of us—and into it we raced.

By the time the members of our boat entered, it was already packed, almost to capacity. Not merely were our party’s passengers inside, but there were several other tourists we did not know who’d been presented with the same shelter. This was simply a tin shack, about ten feet by ten feet with a tin roof upon which the driving rain clattered noisily. It was another surreal experience that we had not expected.

Ralph, our resident songster, began singing a few rain-themed songs: Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head; Singing In the Rain, etc. We joined in to keep our spirits up. It was very dark in the shack and we were standing shoulder to shoulder with only enough room for each of our bodies—there was not even in inch available to move. Some folks took pictures—anything to lighten the atmosphere and keep up the humor while it continued to bucket down.

When the novelty of being in so uncomfortable a position had worn off, it seemed as if our misery would never end. We were cold and damp and did not relish the prospect of returning to those wet boats to be ferried back to our hotel, But, as there was a short respite in the thunderstorm, our boatmen decided to take advantage of it and get us racing back to the boats. I found it super hilarious when Darius informed me (while we were really wet and freezing) that we still had 20 minutes of a boat ride left and that he was willing to complete it for us! The option he offered was that we return directly to our hotel. No marks for guessing that we chose the latter. Yes, our excursion was aborted, due to the weather, and we never would take that guided walk on Crescent Island that our itinerary had promised us—but frankly, no one cared. All we wanted to do was get back into the vans and into our warm, dry hotel lobby.

That’s when we discovered that we would not be getting into our vans at all. Our boatmen dropped us at a pier really close to our hotel when meant that we had only a ten minute sprint to the lobby directly. Well, while that sounded good in theory, I have to say that it was the longest ten minutes ever. We were really freezing, it was still raining and none of us were clothed sensibly enough for such temperatures. Naturally, we dashed to the lobby and once there, wasted no time in getting directly to our rooms. The thought of hot cuppas in our room with hot showers was most comforting and that was exactly what Llew and I did.

An Unexpected Visit to the Maasai Museum:

Llew had finished his shower and I was just about to go in for mine when I received a call in my room. It was Frances—the ever resourceful, ever organizing Frances! She had spoken to the Reception and expressed our interest in visiting the Museum. So, even though it was long past 6.00 pm, the hotel staff informed her that since the Docent was still on the premises, they would be happy to open the Museum and enable us to take a tour of it. My Word! Can you imagine how delighted Frances and I were! Of course, I was certain that Llew would join me too—as neither one of us has never met a museum we did not love. And I was also aware that Doreen shared our great love for art and culture. So I called Doreen’s room and asked if she’d be interested in joining Frances, Llew and me for a museum tour—and, of course, she was not just game, she ws enthusiastic.

And, so the four of us met at the Hotel Lobby at 7.00pm. It was at this point that we decided to put out a message on the Whatsapp group to inform everyone that a docent-led guided tour of the museum was just about to begin and that if they were interested all they had to do was join us there. We heard back immediately from Em and Jude, Lynne and Sacha, who said they would join us. And indeed they did. About fifteen minutes later, we were assembled in the very tiny space and being introduced to our docent, the tall and very unassuming Leparan, a Maasai man, who informed us that he lived two hours away but was happy to take us on this tour.

The Maasai Museum at Enashipai is located in a small Maasai dwelling that was once used as the Reception Tent of this Resort. But, as the Resort grew in size and success, the larger Lobby Structure was built and this modest one was turned into a museum. Artifacts and heirlooms were obtained from the local Maasai tribes and a small, but most impressive collection, was superbly curated. Leparan began by pointing out his two missing bottom front teeth—a signature sign of a genuine Maasai tribesperson—male and female. Secondly, he led us to a board where he explained the origin of the tribe and its relation to creatures from the animal kingdom. These connections also explained the origin of the names of the members of the tribe. On another board, he explained the movement of the Maasai southwards—from the Sudan into Kenya and Tanzania (as they are a nomadic farming and cattle-rearing community who go where the climate and water availability take them). Next, using the larger than life-size model of the Maasai warrior in the center of a gallery, he explained the uses of the various appendages of the warrior: his staff, his stick, his jewelry, his cowhide sandals. In this gallery, there were many examples of the implements used in the daily lives of the tribesmen including weapons and shields that are made indigenously—for both attack and defense. There were bows, arrows, quivers, etc. In another gallery, we learned about Maasai jewelry—both beaded and metallic. In a community in which color and size play a huge role, every piece of jewelry has its significance. We were particularly taken by the intricacy of the bead work of the community—originally made with horn, bone or glass—but now increasingy made with plastic beads. The Maasai also make and wear belts, anklets and armlets in addition to the common use of necklaces, bangles and ear-rings—both male and female.

While we were looking at these objects, we were also learning a great deal about Maasai customs and culture, the position of women in their society, courtship (there is none as all marriages are strictly arranged within the community and village itself) and marriage (the role of the woman is always subordinate to the man). We also learned about hereditary roles and ancestral practices—male circumcision and female mutilation, for instance, are routinely practiced (despite their being banned by the government) as the community is famously insular and does not encourage genetic inter-mixing. This accounts for its DNA purity and the manner in which the physical characteristics (such as towering height) are not compromised. It soon became clear to us that their society is deeply chauvinistic and that women are treated as property by the men in a profoundly patriarchal model. Their lives seemed hard and cruel. Punishments are gruesome and, by the end of the tour, I had to admit that most of us were squeamish although it was highly enlightening and informative. Leparan was a most patient and knowledgeable guide who answered all our questions intelligently and unpassionately.

In the final phase of the tour, we were taken outside the Museum to a little outhouse of sorts which was described to us as a traditional Maasai dwelling. In this little hut, built of stilts and sod, we saw a central fire pit which provided warmth and light to the household. There was a bed on the side which was reserved exclusively for the males of the home. Females slept in another room and were beckoned by the male only for sexual relations—polygamy is freely practiced in the community (a man can have as many wives as he pleases so long as the father of a bride can give him as many cattle head as he desires). Adjoining the main room was another small room which served as a sort of stable—here, the warrior kept his cow…each household owned at least one cow that was used for milk and to generate warmth in the winter months. Needless to say, it was all rather primitive and we were full of questions. But, an hour later, after I had been introduced to the lifestyle and culture of a little-known community and taken one of the most memorable tours of my entire life—and believe me, I have taken dozens of tours of this kind in various parts of the world--I was ready to process and digest everything we’d heard.

Round of Drinks with Friends…and then Last Dinner of our Trip:

It was time for me to return to our room to shower and dress for dinner. We were all aware that this would be our last dinner together as a group and were swept by strong sentiment as we had grown close to and fond of each other. We gathered together in the Bar where we ordered drinks (all alcoholic drinks needed to be paid extra for—and we had to clear our bills each time we left a hotel) for beer, wine and cocktails. I had a mai tai (which took me back to endless evenings on the patio of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Waikiki Beach in Hawai’i, when I had been first introduced to the drink). We sat and shot the breeze and took many pictures in couples, singles and cozy groups before we left to grab some dinner. For my last night in a grand hotel of this kind on this trip, I chose a bowl of Beetroot Soup, a plate of mixed salads for starters and lamb chops, beef steak in mustard sauce and potatoes for my Main. For dessert, Em persuaded the staff to bring us a plate of sliced mango (as this fruit was not on the buffet table). I am happy to say that they obliged and we finished our last dinner the healthy way—although we were fully spoiled for choice in a Desserts Bar that was filled with the most elegant creations in tiny shot glasses including parfaits and trifles. Wow! What a wild ride it had been, food-wise, but seriously after ten days of unmitigated indulgence, we were all ready to return to normality again

Before we called it a night, we realized that the gift shop at the hotel was still open. It had some really interesting items and before we knew it, I bought a mug for my brother, several pairs of horn ear-rings for friends and a lovely chunky Maasai bracelet. I also found a set of little tea or coffee spoons with cheetah and giraffe heads and I bought those too. What a lovely end it was to a terrific day.

We bid many of our friends goodnight before we boarded the little golf cart that ferried us between the Reception Counter and our room. There, we snuggled down for the night but did remember to set our alarms for an early wake-up call, breakfast and our last and final day in Africa.

Until tomorrow, Hakuna Matata (No Troubles, No Worries).

Day Six of Our East African Safari A Day of Devastating Disasters; Hopes of Seeing The Great Migration; At the No-Crossing Kenya-Tanzania Border; A Trek Along the River Sand; A Refreshing Dip in the Hotel Pool—Finally! Sundowners on the Mara; Birthday Celebrations in our Group.

Wednesday, July 16, 2025

Day Six of Our East African Safari

b>A Day of Devastating Disasters; Hopes of Seeing The Great Migration; At the No-Crossing Kenya-Tanzania Border; A Trek Along the River Sand; A Refreshing Dip in the Hotel Pool—Finally! Sundowners on the Mara; Birthday Celebrations in our Group.

Please bear with me as this is an exceptionally lengthy blog post—but you will see that we had a most unusual day--one that cannot be captured or convey in just a few words.)

Breakfst at the Mara Maisha Tented Camp::

Another dawn broke on the Mara and we were up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to enjoy it. In my determination to eat a different breakfast each morning, I opted for French Toast today. Douzed with maple syrup and a generous sprinkling of flaked almond and whole roasted peanuts, it made for a fancy-schmancy platter. To accompany it, I chose something I had seen often on the breakfast buffet table: African baked beans in coconut sauce. As opposed to the small white baked beans in tomato sauce—a staple of the British Breakfast Buffet—this one uses red kidney beans (rajma) cooked in a thick coconut broth. It was creamy and very tasty indeed. For the next couple of days, these became my breakfast beans of choice. I also selected a single pork sausage, sauteed mushrooms and finished off with a lovely strawberry milk shake. You cannot say that we did not eat exceedingly well on this trip (and the weighing scale would cruelly prove that, once we reached home).

What is the Great Migration?

was the day for which I had waited during the entire safari. We were finally at the spot, closest to the Mara River, where it was likely the migrating animals would cross to get to the other side.

what is this Great Migration all about? For the uninitiated, it is an annual pilgrimage undertaken by almost two million wildebeest (and much fewer zebras) during the months July-September. They leave the hot and dry Serengetti (in Tanzania) behind them and make the long journey towards the more forgiving, lush grasslands of the Maasai Mara. The journey covers 500-800 miles each way. Yes, once accomplished, they have to undertake the return journey all over again. Because if they are fortunate enough to arrive safely in the Mara, where they spend 2-3 months, they are then faced with the prospect of returning to Tanzania in October.

In the process of migrating, they become easy targets for a number of predators such as cheetahs, leopards and lions, not to mention scavenging hyenas and vultures who feed on their cadavers. It is deeply moving to see thousands of beasts move in uniform lines together, using instinct that takes them along age-old migrating routes with only their survival instinct to guide them. During the long weeks that involve endless walking, they keep up their strength by grazing non-stop, their heads always bent, their mouths always churning.

They also need to keep a careful eye out for predators as danger is always lurking right behind them. All this movement, over hundreds of miles is, of course, bound to tire them out. And so they stop frequently for long rests when they simply plop down on the plain and remain immobile for hours at a stretch. Once their strength is renwed, they move on again. It takes only a slight movement from anyone who chooses to lead the group, to get up and start moving again, to pick up the pace, or to break into a run. And when this happens, following the instinctive herd mentality, the rest of the group play ‘Follow the Leader’. This is when the spectacle of catching them running like fugitives across the plains is at its most thrilling. Not to mention the possibility of catching them in the act of jumping into the swirling river waters of the Mara, wading bravely through the currents, getting covered with mud and slime from the effort and avoiding, like the plague, the slyly camouflaged crocodiles that seemingly float like logs along the length of the river, looking for their own sustenance. Nature is cruel and the race for survival can be painful and fatal. But it can also be fascinating—which is why thousands of human visitors also converge on the Mara to witness this phenomenon.

Off to See the Great Migration:

Today was also the day that some members of our group decided to pay $450 per head to experience a Hot Air Balloon Ride over the Mara. They had left early in the morning and were ferried to the spot where they would take off for a ride in the skies, an opportunity to view the great sprawling plains beneath them (often studded with herds of animals—often not) and then to sit and enjoy a luxurious Bush Breakfast that included champagne, mimosas and Bloody Marys.

The group that left our hotel after breakfast for the game ride was, therefore, smaller. In our van, we had Yair (whose wife, Nama had chosen to take the balloon ride while he had opted out). Doreen and John chose to ride in another van. We were, therefore, Yair, Albin and Louella, Llew and me in our van today with Amani, our Tour Director whom, I understand, had been sharing his presence among the various vans each day and entertaining passengers with his advanced knowledge.

I thought it was a real privilege to have Amani with us this morning because, if there was anyone capable of helping us identify the spot at which the beasts would make the river crossing, he, with his 17 years of tourism experience, was likely to know it. As we set off from the hotel gates, we requested him, as he was sitting in the passenger seat, besides our driver Steve, to take a selfie of all of us and this he did. In that picture, the last in which he is on duty with our group, he is seen smiling before disaster struck. Yes, he looks relaxed and happy—with no clue at all of what lay ahead. He asked us what our expectation was for the day and I told him I would kill to see the wildebeest fording the river and attempting to get safely on to the other side. That, he told me, was a dream. It was the last words he would speak to us.

Disaster Strikes Our Tour Guide:

Not even ten minutes after our conversation, Llew and I (who were sitting directly behind him and the our driver) noticed that Amani had started dozing off. We were driving towards the most likely Migration site and he suddenly nodded off. Believing that he was catching up on his sleep (the poor man was probably the last to fall asleep at night and the first to awake each day), we fully understood his need to get some rest. Steve, our driver, sitting right by him also thought he was dozing.

But after five minutes, Louella asked Amani a question. Why are there so many vans congregated there, she asked. No response. We let it pass. Two minutes later, she asked again. Amani, do you think there is something important happening there? No answer. Steve now nudged Amani in the ribs in order to wake him up from his slumber. No change. In fact, Amani’s body was now sliding towards the driver’s steering wheel. He was inert. Steve realized that he was not well. He pulled the van over to the side of the road. Louella immediately wanted to know why we were stopping. Steve told her that Amani was not feeling well.

Now it so happened that Louella is a physician—a pediatrician but a doctor, nevertheless. Her husband Albin told her to rush and find out what was going on. She jumped up from her seat, jumped down from the van and rushed to Amani. How fortuitous was it that we actually had a doctor in our van? She called out to him repeatedly but he was not conscious. He is unconscious, she declared. He is probably having a seizure, she said. Or probably even a mild stroke.

By this time, other vehicles behind us and those going in the opposite direction also stopped, in the established tradition of drivers halting to investigate and offer help to stranded vehicles. When they noticed that we were dealing with a medical crisis, they offered to lift Aman out of the vehicle and place him on the grass on the side of the road. Louella suggested his legs be raised up to enable blood to flow to his brain. Llew remembered that we had the plastic stair stepper in the back of the van. He rushed to produce it. This was placed under Amani’s legs to elevate them. A blanket was placed around him. He remained unconscious. Someone produced a bottle of water and several drops were sprinkled on his head. I produced wet wipes from my bag to wipe his brow. He regained consciousness for a few seconds but could not respond to Louella’s questions. When he did try to speak, only guttural sounds emerged from his throat. Then he fell unconscious again. It had not been easy to lift Amani out of the van. He is a big, strapping, heavy black African man and he was dead weight. It was only the assistance of all the vehicle drivers (who had stopped to help) that had enabled him to be moved.

Now, one of those drivers stepped forward and suggested he be taken to a hospital speedily as it was very obvious he needed emergency medical attention. Louella agreed. Of course, it was our vehicle that would have to take him to the hospital as there was no other spare vehicle to do the deed. This meant that our progression towards the Migration Site was well and truly stalled. I must admit that my first reaction was to feel bitterly disappointed at the turn of events. But then my better sense prevailed and I realized that life was more important than the sight of migrating beasts. The drivers assisted and, once again, Amani was placed in a seat behind the passenger seat near Steve. He was still unconscious. However, they had managed to place the seat in a complete reclining position and his legs were placed at a higher incline. With Amani lying down in this position, Steve raced towards the hospital

I had no idea where the hospital was. Going by John’s experience, I believed we’d have to return to Nairobi—a good six hours away. Steve talked about dropping us off at our hotel and then proceeding with Amani to the hospital. But then he seemed to have a brainwave. He remembered that there was a hospital at Talek, the small village that we’d keep passing by on our way in and out of our hotel. That place could be reached in about twenty minutes, With Steve stepping on the gas, we reached in 15 minutes. The staff were alerted immediately that we had an emergency case in our van and, to my utmost surprise, within minutes, they produced a number of personnel who brought out a stretcher and, while struggling with the dead weight that was Amani, managed to get him from the van seat to the stretcher. About ten minutes later, Amani was in Triage.

For the next hour or so, we sat outside in the waiting room, storming heaven and sweating bullets. I had alerted Ralph, one of my fellow-travelers, to the nature of our crisis. He suggested I send out a message to the whole group on our Whatsapp mode so that they were all aware of the situation and could start praying for Amani. This I did. So, by the time, Amani was receiving emergency medical services, our entire group was made aware of the crisis and were sending encouraging messages back. The Talek hospital, by the way, was a Pre-natal and Maternity Home, not a full-strength medical facility—but it was certainly capable of providing Emergency medical services.

While Amani was in Triage, we, the passengers of the Van, sat quietly so as not to add to the confusion. We noticed that there were three Maasai women sitting calmly on a bench in front of us. It turned out that they were there to await the birth of a baby as one of their relatives was in the Maternity Room in labor. They did not have to wait long, it seemed.

In the meanwhile, our driver Steve came splendidly into his own. He was able to answer questions of the consulting physician on duty, Dr. Angela, a smart black African woman, who needed Amani’s personal details. On going through Amani’s backpack, which was in our van, Steve procured his passport and his personal details were obtained—age (49), nationality (Tanzanian), address (a home base in Arusha). We also found a massive amount of medication which was also turned over to Dr. Angela. Amani’s pressure was taken as soon as he entered the hospital and it was conveyed to us that it was exceedingly high—220 over 116. Immediate attempts were made to bring it down. Meanwhile, the hospital personnel consulted with Steve and recommended that Amani be air-lifted immediately to Nairobi to a facility where he would get much better treatment. Without wasting any time, the airstrip closest to Talek was contacted and it was established that there was a small plane going to Nairobi in less than an hour. The hospital personnel decided to prepare Amani for transfer to the plane and then to the hospital. At Nairobi airport, personnel from the Aga Khan Hospital there would be waiting to receive him and would rush him over to their emergency unit.

Another Medical Episode:

we were all caught up in the drama of Amani’s catastrophe, Llew went and sat down on another bench, very quietly. After a few minutes, he beckoned me forward and whispered to me that he was not feeling well either. After I asked him what was wrong, he said he felt extremely weak and a bit giddy. Louella immediately called for the blood pressure machine to be brought out. She made him lie down on the bench and, a few minutes later, a nurse brought out a portable machine. They took his pressure and discovered that it had plummeted. The nurse wanted to put an IV into his arm immediately to supply him instantly with fluids. But Louella realized that he was perfectly capable of sipping water himself. She produced an ice-cold fresh bottle of water from the car and for the next 15 minutes, Llew sipped it slowly. After a while, he started to feel much better. That dizzy spell had passed away completely. Louella suspected that it had been brought on by the shock and anxiety of what we had gone through over a particularly harrowing morning.

, in the Pre-Natal Room, the Maasai baby was born, She was a beautiful, little girl and was shrouded immediately in a tiny red Maasai blanket. We were simply delighted to see her cuddled in her grandmother’s arms. What a morning! Amani’s stroke, Llew’s dizziness and the birth of a new human being. It was all a bit surreal!

How did it compare with sitting by a river bank waiting for wildebeest to cross over? Well, there is simply no comparison. We had all been party to the saving of a human life and, for as long as I live, I will never forget the sense of accomplishment I felt on knowing that our decision and actions had been life-saving. I may never meet Amani ever again, as our paths may never cross…but his spirit will always be with me and he will always remain in my prayers.

an hour later, after Amani had been stabilized (although his pressure still remained dangerously high), Steve and the hospital personnel put him into our van and drove him off to the airstrip for his flight to Nairobi. Meanwhile, Steve had contacted another driver called Nixon who was instructed to bring a van to pick us up from the hospital and take us back into the Bush so that we could carry on with our safari. It was about 10.30am by this point. Amani’s stroke had occurred at 8.15 am. So, we had lost a little more than two hours; but Nixon told us he would take us to where the rest of our group was. Before we left the hospital, we took a photograph with our angel, Dr. Angela (so appropriately named!), who had treated Amani. Then, we stopped at the Talek gas station so that Nixon could fill gas and were off.

Our Morning’s Safari Drive Continues:

En route to meeting our group, we passed by a vast number of topi and eland, zebras and antelopes. But, eventually, Nixon received word that another lion had been sighted. He raced to the spot and we were able to glimpse a massive male with a beautiful mane, fast asleep in a small grassy ditch in the midst of a vast flat plain. It always amazed how who had or how such sleeping (and well-concealed) animals were spotted by these trackers. It’s almost as if they have sixth sense when it comes to nosing out big cats for our viewing pleasure. Of course, there were at least six other vans (not from our group) that also arrived on the scene and as Nixon circled the ditch, I was able to get some really lovely pictures of the snoozing animal.

A Feast for Vultures:

A little later, after we’d moved away from this spot, Nixon saw a vast number of vultures encircling the skies above. He guessed immediately that there was a kill somewhere around upon which they would be feasting. Following his own instincts, he took us off road and led us into a grassy area where we saw a Marabou stork and then another and then another. Loads of them came swooping out of the air, seemingly from nowhere, and made a graceful landing in our vicinity. And then, just ahead of us, in a clearing, we spied a vulture feeding upon the head of a Cape Buffalo. Clearly another animal had decapitated the buffalo and dragged its head alone to this spot. After it had eaten its fill, it was left to the vultures to pick at the bones. We got many great pictures of this awesome sight.

At the Non-Crossing Kenya-Tanzania Border:

After we left the scavenging birds behind, Nixon drove us to another spot. We saw many vans headed in the same direction and believed there was another significant sighting. But no…this time we were headed to a landmark spot: the non-crossing border between Tanzania and Kenya. This simply meant that, on a map, this spot would be one at which the two countries merged. Nobody was allowed to venture over into the Tanzania side. While there was a very nondescript sign saying, “International Boundary—No Entry Into Tanzania”, the point was marked by the skeleton of the head of a Cape Buffalo with its magnificent set of horns. Every tourist was pausing there to pose for pictures and Llew and I did so too.

But the really more meaningful spot was just a few feet ahead of us. A more permanent, concrete signpost had been built in a tri-corner position with a step upon which tourists could pose. It clearly demarcated the border between Kenya and Tanzania with KE written on one side and TZ on the other. We placed ourselves in such a way that Llew was in Kenya and I was in Tanzania in exactly the same moment!

Gimmicks like these make great travel photo ops and we have stood in many such venues through the thousands of miles of international travel we have done. For example, we stood at the Cape of Good Hope (the lowest point on the African Continent). I have stood at Cabo da Roca (or Cape Roca) in Portugal, the most western point of the European Continent. We have stood at the spot where Route 1 begins in Maine and where it ends in the Florida Everglades at Key West. Llew and I have stood at Mile Zero in Nagpur, which is exactly at the center point of the Indian sub-continent. We have stood astride the Prime Meridian in Greenwich, outside London, UK and have also stood astride the Equator in Quito, Ecuador, South America. A few months ago, we were at the border crossing between India and Bangladesh and were able to stand at signs that said ‘Welcome to India’ on one side and ‘Welcome to Bangladesh’ on the other. When in Turkey and crossing over the Bosporus Bridge, we had passed by signs that said, “Welcome to Asia” while, on the other side, there was a similar sign that said, “Welcome to Europe’ because when you are in Turkey, you are in two continents at the same time. Really exciting of all was being at Four Corners, USA—the point at which four states meet: Colorado, Utah, Arizona and New Mexico. We placed one hand in each of two states and one foot in each of the other two. So, at the same moment, we were present in four American states simultaneously! And just a few days ago, we had passed through Arusha in Tanzania, which is supposed to be the absolute central point of Africa—it is exactly equidistant from Cairo in Egypt (Northern Africa) and Cape Town in South Africa. The clock tower in Arusha marks the exact point of this intersection. This sort of thing has always been great fun for me. The geography buff in me is always excited at the prospect of these landmarks.

A Walk on the Wild Side—Along the Banks of the River Sand:

This fun tangential excursion done, we were taken by Nixon to yet another spot. We’d have the opportunity to actually get off our van and trek along the banks of the River Sand. First off, it might not seem such an exciting prospect. But then Nixon explained that the river is alive with wildlife and we’d see a whole lot.

However, no one is allowed to wander in this area unescorted. Nixon, therefore, asked us if we wished to hire a Ranger to guide us on a walk along the river banks. Of course, we agreed. We asked how much it would cost us and were told that the Ranger’s services were free of charge, but we were free to tip him as we saw fit. Accordingly, we were approached by a tall and most imposing black African man who told us his name was Ranger Rama. He assembled our little group together, just past the parking lot, and led us to a series of animal head skeletons on the ground. He then pointed out to them and named their species: antelope, gazelle, wart hog, rhino and, finally, Cape Buffalo. From this point, we could also see that directly across the river were a whole slew of hippos wallowing in the water. Most of them were immobile, not a muscle moving along the shallow banks. Others were sunbathing at the water’s edge. I asked the Ranger if this spot was in the Migration Path. But he said, No. The animals cross the Mara River, he said, not the Sand. And then our walk began.

For the next fifteen minutes, he led us along a narrow and very rocky path, past low-growing bushes. At various points, he would stop to point out juvenile crocodiles on the opposite bank. They too were motionless, enjoying the warmth of a very sunny day. As he led us in a neat crocodile through the path, he told us that we had many breathtaking sights in store. And we discovered that these took the form of gigantic crocodiles on the same bank as we were but way below us. They were really humongous and I have to say I remembered the crocodiles we had seen in Queensland, Australia, along the Daintree River. Those were actually in the river with us (we were in boats and were strictly instructed to keep our hands out of the water!). We also saw crocodiles in Meghalaya in India and in Costa Rica along the Rio Negro. But, I have to say that these crocodiles really awed me. It was their size—they were long, huge and fat. Rama told us that this particular one had actually eaten a baby hippo and would take about three months to finish digesting it—during which period it would not need to hunt or consume any food at all! Wow! This explained its exceptional size. After we’d taken a bunch of pictures of crocodiles on both sides of the river, we made our way back to the parking lot with Rama where we posed for more pictures. This was the only opportunity we had to take a nature walk on foot and it was a novel and very interesting concept.

Heading Towards the Migration Venues

And then Nixon received word from someone that we could possibly catch some of the migrating zebras and wildebeest. He did not say anything to us (as he probably did not want to disappoint us). But he merely put his vehicle in gear, left the site of the sunbathing hippos and crocodiles and headed in the direction of the migrating animals.

About fifteen minutes later, we were on a massive plain punctuated only occasionally by a lone acacia tree. Just ahead of us, we saw hundreds of zebras hidden by the tall grass. There were at least five hundred of them in the group—yes, when they are found in such numbers, they are part of the migrating hordes. But Nixon wanted to give us more. He drove ahead and reached the base of a low hill. Ahead of us, we could see another safari van mounting the hill. Clearly, the driver of this van had the same idea. If we parked at a height, on top of the hill, we’d have a panoramic view of the plains ahead from a height. If wildebeest passed in this direction, we’d be able to see them in their thousand.

And that was precisely what happened. As we waited in our parked vehicle, the herds of wildebeest came trundling along slowly. And then, as if sensing that they were in a good spot, they stopped. There were at least a couple of thousands of them spread out before us—several hundred clustered together, a small gap in which zebras loitered, and then another several hundred in another tight group. They had stopped to take a rest but were undecided about whether to stay at this spot and rest or whether to proceed. Were they to stay, they would have plonked down. As it was, they remained standing. Some of thenm loitered desultorily around. In the zoom lens of my phone-camera, some of them appear right in front of me, only a few feet away.

Then, a few of the zebras began running together in one direction but the wildebeest did not follow. They were probably much too tired and needed rest. At any rate, as far as our eyes could see, from our heightened vantage point, the plains were covered with animals. We were right in the midst of the Great Migration although we were not besides any of the river banks.

A few minutes later, Nixon drove us downhill and brought our van to a halt right in the thick of the migrating hordes. Now, these thousands of animals were only a few feet away from us. I tried to use my camera to be able to convey the vast numbers in front of us and stretching out for what seemed like miles in the distance; but I seriously do not think that our pictures or my video do any justice to the phenomenon.

I had to pinch myself to believe that I was witnessing this occurrence. It left me speechless. Just imagine, if you can, miles of low grass plains covered with large animals, all moving in the same direction and then coming to a long halt in one massive group? It simply defies description.

With our day not completely wasted and having seen much of what our other group members had covered, Nixon brought us back to our hotel. No, the ‘dream’ of which Amani had spoken did not quite come true. We did not see the wildebeest crossing the Mara (I am told by friends that we were there too early in the season and ought to have been there at the end of August, if we hoped to see these scenes). But, what we did do was bear witness to the mesmerizing movement of animals that occurs once a year in this most amazing part of the globe.

Lunch and a Refreshing Swim in the Hotel Pool:

We returned to the hotel in time for lunch which was one of those lavish buffet samplers that offers everyone something to suit their palates. As this was one of the first days during which we were actually at the hotel in the afternoon, a few of us decided to go to the pool for a swim. And that was exactly was Doreen. John, Em, Jude, Louella, Albin, Llew and I did. I think Gino too took a dip. The water was delightfully cool on the warm afternoon and we frolicked about wishing we could have stayed longer. Alas, we had to move on after half an hour as we had to shower, dress and get ready for the next item on our agenda: Sundowners!

Sundowners on the Mara

Another half hour later, we had piled into our vans and were ferried off to a vast clearing on the plains where we found tables set up with an array of colored drinks. A large bonfire stood in the center flanked by two Maasai warriors. Johnson, one of the tour drivers, who took charge in Amani’s place, welcomed us to Sundowners--a term coined by the British, during their colonial rule of Kenya, for the drinks that were sipped as the sun set on the Mara. I noticed that set off from the colored drinks in small juice glasses was a full bar. Johnson explained that while the non-alcoholic colored drinks were free of charge, we’d have to pay for any alcoholic beverages of our choice. I believe some folks ordered beer. But a range of cocktail smacks were also available, free of charge, and these were lined up to consume: roasted peanuts, mandazi (like beignets), rock cakes, fresh fruit—water melon, passion fruit—chocolate cake, more fresh fruit—pineapple and orange segments—chicken wings and meatballs with barbecue sauce. It was a time of great fun and much laughter as we posed with the obliging Maasai warriors around the fire as singles, couples and in unruly groups—a bit like herding (wild) cats! But finally, we took our fill of pictures before the sun disappeared over the horizon altogether at the end of another day. We’d had our fair share of adventures and were ready to call it a night.

Then, to our astonishment, one of our drivers told us that they could hear lions roaring—they were not sure exactly where—and they wanted all of us back in our vans again. We duly complied and, ten minutes later, with the sun having set, we began our drive to our hotel.

Spying a Lion on the Mara:

But no sooner were on our merry way homewards than our drivers made a detour: yes, they were not mistaken into thinking they had heard lions roar. One of them was right in our vicinity and then, before we could say ‘King of the Jungle’, there he was: coming right towards us, as if with a purpose, was this magnificent male. It seemed that he was hungry, but male lions are very lazy and will only hunt if they are starving. They wait for the females in their pride to do the hunting before they sit down, like lords of the manor, to feast on the spoils. This grand guy took his time circling our vans and then scooted off into the distance. We got our pictures and another Close Encounter of the Big Cat Kind

Please...…No More Adventures…

Well, off we went. It was dark now and we were about thirty minutes away from our hotel. That’s when our driver Steve noticed that the van in front of him was wobbling. He rather suspected “a slow puncture” and did not think it was safe for passengers to move forward on such dodgy wheels. He communicated with the driver ahead of him and offered to stop to help him change his tire.

And so, a few minutes later, we were all pulling up on the side of the road in the pitch darkness while lions roamed and roared on the Mara. Steve, our driver, positioned his van in such a way that our headlights illuminated the flat tire of the van in front of us. And then, being the skillful, resourceful men they are, the drivers used large stones they found on the wayside, to buoy up the van and used their jack and spare tire to get the job done. Another twenty minutes later, while we watched with bated breath, hoping they did not find themselves in the open air staring into the roaring face of a lion, the tire was swapped and the safari van procession moved on. Phew!

Dinner and Birthday Celebrations at our Hotel:

By this point in the day, I was seriously looking to quell any further excitement—we’d had enough! So, when we assembled in our dining tent to attack the buffet, I sat with a bowl of Carrot soup with croutons and another little plate of salad. That was seriously all I wanted to eat having made quite a meal of our Sundowner snacks. Of course, I did not pass up on dessert: there was a Chocolate Pudding with Custard Sauce and Mandazi (Bread) Pudding with Caramel Sauce.

And just when we thought we could quickly slip away to the quiet of our tent, one of those boisterous Birthday Processions emerged from the kitchen—and guess that? This time the lucky recipient of that frosted birthday cake with candles at the head of the winding staff crocodile was a member from our own group—Sandy. She noticed that there were two names on the cake. The other was Doreen’s. And so Doreen, who was hugely surprised by the fanfare, was summoned from a nearby table and asked to stand besides Sandy while everyone sang for them. It was Sandy’s birthday a while ago and Doreen’s more than three months ago—which made me wonder why I did not get a similar celebration as mine had been only a day before our safari began! But, I guess we had not informed Amani of our interest in being felicitated in this way! At any rate, slices of a lovely red velvet cake were then distributed to the members of our group—but most of us were simply too stuffed by this point to enjoy it.

And on that happy note, we made our way to our tent for a peaceful night’s sleep. We had gone through more adventures that one day than most people have on an entire safari. But we would not change these experiences for anything. To have been instrumental in the saving of a life, to have seen new Maasai life come into this world, to have stood in the thick of the Great Migration, to have come face-to-face with a single lion, to have witnessed automotive repair on the Mara with the ever-present danger of being attacked by wild cats, was simply too much to take in for one day. We went to bed with a prayer on our lips for Amani and his full recovery, for Steve and everyone else who had salvaged the day and for the continued success of our safari.

Until tomorrow, Hakuna Matata (No Troubles, No Worries).

Day Five of Our East African Safari: Leaving Nairobi After Breakfast; Six-Hour Drive to the Maasai Mara; Arrival at Mara Maisha Tented Camp; First Game Drive in the Mara; Dinner at Mara Maisha.

Tuesday, July 15, 2025

Day Five of Our East African Safari

Leaving Nairobi After Breakfast; Six-Hour Drive to the Maasai Mara; Arrival at Mara Maisha Tented Camp; First Game Drive in the Mara; Dinner at Mara Maisha.

Breakfast of Champions at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Nairobi Westlands:

Of all the hotels at which we stayed on this trip, the Hyatt Regency at Nairobi Westlands was, in my humble opinion, simply the best! For one thing, it had this gigantic TV screen which enabled us to finally catch up on international news after living in a Safari Bubble for almost a week. Secondly, it had decaff coffee sachets in the tea/coffee station in each room (how thoughtful and considerate is that?). Thirdly, while I am usually not one to wax eloquent about hotel breakfast buffets, this place had the most magnificent breakfast ever—with smoked salmon (one of my favorite things in the world to eat) and real, genuine, Parisian-style croissants and pain au chocolat (which is to say, they were not just bread rolls shaped like croissants, but the real thing, complete with glazed lamination)! No marks for guessing that we ate really well. My travel-companions had saved their decaff sachets for me, as requested, and for the rest of our breakfast, they came trooping to our table carrying the precious sachets in their hands and depositing them with me. Suffice it to say that we had enough decaff coffee to cure the insomniacs in us for the rest of our trip—maybe for the rest of our lives!

Being spoiled for choice, I made a ‘no-carbs at brekkie’ exception to my own rule and helped myself to a small croissant, a small helping of scrambled eggs (they were soft and creamy--the way I like them), baked beans, half a grilled tomato, a pork sausage, rolls of smoked salmon and some orange juice. Yummy! It was perhaps one of my most enjoyable breakfasts. It was good to have John and Doreen join us at our table and to obtain more tidbits from them about their adventures in Nairobi. And as if this bounty were inadequate, Amani came around to our tables and told us (after we’d had our fill) that we were welcome to help ourselves to a take-out snack or sandwich—one or two for the road! Boy oh boy! Were we thrilled! It would save us the agony of another packed lunch!

Did we just swoop on the buffet once again? Yes, Sirree Bob! Did those croissants and pain au chocolat just fly off those shelves? You bet! Miraculously, the hotel provided us with brown paper take-out bags! Can you imagine anything more thoughtful? Never, ever, in my experience with buffets was such generosity in evidence. Needless to say, we did not have to be told twice. I fixed myself two smoked salmon sandwiches in croissants–even including some slices of raw onion from the salad bar. Llew, who does not eat fish, was presented by me with two ham and cheese croissant sandwiches which I fixed for him. I saw folks help themselves to madeleines (yes, the buffet carried those) and financiers (yes, we could have been in a patisserie/boulangerie in the South of France) and every conceivable kind of mini bread roll. We were like kids in a candy shop!

Passing by the large picture windows—for we were on the eighth floor of a high-rise building—I had great views of the Westlands area of Nairobi—I stopped to admire the view of other skyscrapers surrounding our building and I took a few photographs. Then, it was time for us to pile into our transport for another long ride—for we were headed to another highlight of our travels—a stint in the Maasai Mara.

Just before we boarded our vehicle, however, I remember that it was my brother Russel’s Birthday. Using our international calling plan, I was able to call him in Bombay and both Llew and I were able to wish him well and tell him that we were thinking of him and praying for his health and happiness. It was already 11.30 am in Bombay and my cousin, Linnet and her mother Ruby, his other cousins Meera and Ashley had, upon my request, gone over this place with a cake. There, they sang a ‘Happy Birthday’ to him as he cut his cake and blew his candle and made him feel very special indeed. I felt very sorry that we had missed his birthday, but to make up for it, we had organized a party for him, a few days before our departure on this safari. That sufficed to keep him happy and with relatives and guests trooping into his home on his birthday itself, he was a very happy camper.

Long Drive from Nairobi to the Maasai Mara:

Our morning’s drive from Nairobi to the Mara was a huge study in contrasts. As we passed through the urban heart of Kenya’s most populous city, Nairobi, we had glimpses of the daily routine of Kenyans. The industrious working set were out in droves, well-dressed in professional garb, for the start of their day. Public transport, in the form of local buses, were packed, commuters crammed inside like in a sardine can, strap-hangers swaying. Streets were simply filled with people, walking purposefully towards their destinations or standing at bus-stops in a disorderly crowd waiting to board local buses. Vendors, their wares spread all over the pavements, were setting up for the day as they sold cheap clothing and footwear. There were large bill-boards on the roads advertising everything from telecommunications packages like Airtel’s services to KFC’s meal deals. Buses honked, brakes screeched, people dodged traffic as they crossed busy streets, regardless of traffic light controls. Yes, indeed, all the confusion and assault on the senses that one associates with Third World cities anywhere in the world—at least the one’s I’ve visited--(Cairo, Fez, Bangkok, Calcutta, Bombay) was evident everywhere. In fact, downtown Nairobi reminded me of Bombay as it had been about thirty years ago (i.e. before the great Economic Revolution for re-development of the late, former Prime Minister and economist, Dr. Manmohan Singh, that had taken the country from a socialist model to a quasi-capitalist one). I was really really happy to receive this glimpse into the city (because, upon our return to Nairobi), we would be skirting around the most exclusive, affluent, former colonialist parts of the city, such as Karen, which were completely different from the chaos of this average, everyday world.

Gradually, passing under lofty flyovers (again, similar to Bombay in its current avatar), we made our way out of the city, flying through the suburbs on terrific tarmac roads. We were making our way into the beating rural heartland of Kenya and to do this, we had to pass through the scenic Rift Valley.

Pausing at the Spectacular Rift Valley for Photo Ops:

The Rift Fault, by the way, runs through the backbone of Kenya and Tanzania and makes the region susceptible to the earth’s tremors. This accounts for the sudden appearance of the single mountain—Kilimanjaro—and the vast crater surrounding the caldera of Ngorongoro. It has given its name to the range of low mountains that surround the suburbs and, in the post-monsoon season, the area remains lush, verdant and inviting. In the higher reaches, the air is delightfully nippy and pleasantly clean, free from the urban pollution of motor vehicles.

We stopped in a particularly appealing bend in the road in the Rift Valley to take pictures. It allowed us to stretch our legs and take in some of the most visually charming sights in the valley below, basking in anemic sunshine: fields and farms and occasional farm houses and barns. In couples or in snug groups, we posed for pictures, our drivers obligingly playing photographers or posing with us. Maasai huts lined the road selling the usual tourist tat and a few of us inspected the goods. There were a lot of sheep skin throws and sheep skin hats as well as cow hide floor coverings. We looked at small piles of local fruits and vegetables (loads of corn on the cob—the depleted stalks make excellent cattle food) that are regularly consumed by the local population, most of whom are Maasai nomadic cowherds.

And so we inched deeper into the rural territory. Yes, we did make a few rest room stops, every two hours, at the highway shops-cum-restaurants-cum-restrooms that allow travelers to find relief. They are usually clean enough, offer running water and toilet paper amenities (although no paper towels to wipe hands) and are uniformly well-maintained. But, I have to say that as we passed by small towns, looking at ordinary people going about their daily activity—filling gas at pumps, buying large bags of oranges or onions--I was struck by the names of the shops and business establishments. They were quite comical, some of them (Bless this Shop was one; this Blessed Shop was another; Get Well Clinic was a third). Stray dogs were evident (another Third World appendage), pools in potholes (yet another one) and make-shift stalls sold wares on the pavement.

It was very clear to us when we were nearing Maasai Country. The scenes changed dramatically. Hundreds of heads of cattle (cows and goats) walked alongside our vans on the roads, led by shepherds of varying age. But all of them wore the distinctive red Maasai blankets and carried shepherd’s staff--which are certainly their signature trademark. Wide open expanses of field and farm came into view as agriculture and animal husbandry are their chief forms of livelihood. That, and selling and making tourist trinkets (bead jewelry, wood carvings, paintings). Homes became far less permanent. Most looked like tin or asbestos shanties, rudimentary in the extreme. Steve informed me that the Maasai receiuve large government subsidies as they are the original owners of the land but find its maintenance taxing. They are extraordinarily insular in their customs and behavior and brook no interference in their traditional ways of life. Hence, they are treated with kid gloves. Over the years, the Maasai have come to realize how lucrative their unique culture can be—foreign tourists lap up the opportunity to visit their villages, to interact with them and pose for pictures, to watch them whoop and dance in customary fashion—all for a price, of course, We were told to pay $25 per head for the privilege. But the plan was cancelled for want of takers from our group.

Yes, we did feast on our sandwiches—kind courtesy of Hyatt--in the van. Someone pulled out a bag of crisps, another munched on an apple. And so, hunger pangs were kept at bay and we did not feel the need to make a stop for lunch. And after what seemed like an interminably long time, our drive ended and we were entering the property called Mara Maisha Tented Camp.

Checking Into and Having Lunch at Mara Maisha Safari Camp:

The owners of Mara Maisha Safari Camp are the same ones who own the Kibo Safari Camp at Amboseli. The layout of their establishment is identical—both outside and in our individual tents, capped with rustic thatched roofs. We were presented with a hot towel and a cold Welcome Drink at the entrance as the tedious task of giving us room keys and taking our baggage to our rooms commenced. By this point in time, we were pros at the process, but we were also pretty fed up with the frequent changes in accommodation. One of the greatest aspects of our prior safari, in South Africa’s Kruger National Park, ten years ago, was that we had checked into one camp (Hamilton Tented Camp) and had stayed put there for a whole week. This eliminated the tedium of checking in and out every single night.

Llew and I were led to our villa which was so far away from the main Reception tent that I almost believed the two of us were camping out on the Mara! (Not surprising that I heard lions roar at night and woke Llew up to hear them too). Here too, we loved the manner in which local materials (sand, stone, terracotta) were incorporated into the architectural design of the space. Little toadstools, studded with black basaltic stone, led us into our tent. But all we could do was have a really lightning lie-down and use the toilet before we were expected to return to the Lobby for lunch and the start of our next game drive.

Yes, lunch we did eat—it was a very late lunch but riding in a safari van for hours on end whets one’s appetite! The buffet was still open at the Dining Hall and we ate well. Soup and salad always do the trick. With our bellies satisfied, we trooped back into our vans for our next game drive. This time John and Doreen left us to ride in another van and Em and Jude joined us in ours. This drive would be on the Mara itself. And oh my! What a game drive it turned out to be!!! We won the safari lottery with the big cats!

Stalking Big Cats on the Mara:

Our drive started off tamely enough. We passed by herds of antelope, impalas and wart hogs. There were also dozens of zebra everywhere we looked. By this point in the game (hunt), these animals had lost their novelty and we no longer went crazy with our cameras.

However, very shortly, word got out that a pride of lions had been spied. And so the mad race to catch a glimpse of them before they sauntered off, began. Steve stepped on the gas on the long, winding, bumpy, dusty roads with us hanging on for dear life. Radio communication brought the other vans in our party to the same spot and then, hey presto, there it was. At first, all we could see was a lone lioness walking rather restlessly about ten meters away from us. Yes, we did keep safe distance as she was clearly on the prowl. Once we followed her movements, however, we made the charming discovery that there were two more felines lazing in the shade of some low-growing shrubs. They turned out to be a mother and her cub, lying side by side, trying hard to ignore our presence. There was another safari van that was much closer to the pride—Steve told us that these vans are especially equipped to handle the needs of professional international photographers who pay handsomely for government permission to go off road and get close-up shots of the creatures.

We got our fair share of photographs too—albeit from a greater distance. The mother stretched occasionally, threw her head back and yawned lazily—allowing us to get some really terrific action shots. The cub remained motionless for most of the time. The other lioness continued her aimless strolls, back and forth. All the while, our van drivers changed position to enable us to get better shots of them. But although we stayed there for almost half an hour, it was clear that the family did not intend to budge from their cool spot and after a while, we moved on.

Then Along Came the Show-Off Cheetah:

Our scouring of the plain continued. Rhinos had still remained elusive and as we were nearing the end of our safari drives, all of us kept wishing we’d hit the lucky jackpot and find them, sooner or later. And then just as these thoughts were invading our minds, Steve received word that a cheetah had been sighted. So, it was time to go out in search of him.

Another mad, tearing drive brought us to a flat clearing, almost entirely devoid of vegetation. And then, after we’d inched closer, we caught sight of him—this splendid, dotted creature whose antennae were clearly on alert. We followed his glance and saw that his sights were set on a pair of Thompson’s gazelles, in the distance. The cheetah was very clearly on the hunt. He was probably hungry and trying to figure out how he could get as close as possible and as stealthily as possible to his prey, without alerting the gazelles to its presence. He started to move in classic predatory fashion, one small, sly step forward at a time.

But then, to his annoyance, he found that his progress towards his target was entirely thwarted by the fact that our vans had fully encircled him and blocked his chosen path. The poor creature had no straight course to his gazelle. He looked around him in frustration, trying to find a spot through which he could squeeze to get past our vans and over on to the other side of our circle. Of course, this was all high-quality drama for us. But, by being so close to the animal, we had deprived ourselves of one of the rarest safari sightings ever—a predator moving in for the kill and grabbing its prey. Had we seen this, we’d have hit pure safari gold.

But no, we would not have that thrill. We had jeopardized our own joy. The cheetah walked with royal and slow splendor along the flat, grassless plain in front of us. And then, as if to taunt us, he came to the very wheels of two vans that were standing, nose to tail, and began to show off with a series of acrobatic moves that exposed the awesome muscularity of its lean structure. Yes, we were able to capture a lot of wonderful photographs. But we missed out on the real prize—watching the thrill of the chase and the almost certain possibility of fresh kill. After preening in front of us for a good ten minutes, the cheetah become tired of his own stunts and deciding that he had given us enough opportunity to be voyeurs, he grew tired of his own games and bounded away into the undergrowth. It was a lost opportunity that we would never get back.

For the rest of the morning, we saw a number of animals that we had never seen before but with which Em and Jude seemed very familiar. We saw an eland, for example, a kind of large horned ox with a pronounced hump that resembled an Indian cow. We also saw a sizeable antelope called a Topi, for the very first time. He was clad in ‘blue jeans’—a darker shade on his upper lags. For the next few days, we would continue to see large herds of topi, so that they would become for us as ubiquitous as gazelles

The best part of being out on the Mara, as twilight fell, was that we were in the midst of a splendid sunset. The sun’s slanting rays formed sharp luminous fingers in the sky and as they illuminated a herd of zebra alongside which we drove, we got some really evocative pictures of the Mara. More animals that we snapped as they wended their way home, in a hazy dusk across the land, were gazelles, antelopes, giraffes, impalas and more zebras. Yes, there are thousands of animals on the Mara and yet, you never tire of them as they remain constant companions on every game drive.

Drinks and Dinner with Friends:

At dinner this time, Llew and I found ourselves seated with Nama and Yair, the lovey Israeli couple who had joined us on the tour—they are friends/relatives of Sol and Dalia. I was pleased to have the opportunity to get to know another couple from our group a little better. Llew ordered red wine and Yair ordered a bottle of white wine. He offered me a glass and I graciously accepted and with our drinks in front of us, we started up a happy conversation.

Deciding to try and eat lighter, this evening, I enjoyed the Beef Bouillon (a most delicious clear consomme) and a plate filled with cheese, crackers and Greek Salad. They served as delightful appetizers. Later, I moved on to Steak Frites—yes, I had the Beef Pepper Steak with a flavorful mushroom sauce, a small helping of French fries, another small helping of pasta in marinara sauce and a small salad with loads of seeds and nuts. I finished with fresh grapefruit for dessert—something I do not get to eat too often in India. It was one of the nicest meals I had eaten all week. There was another birthday procession that brought music, noise and a dance procession to the space before we could call it a night.

Just when we thought we could make a dash to our rooms for an early relaxing evening, Em told us that a few of them would be sittign down to play bards. Llew joined them as well as Louella, Albin, Doreen and John to play Bluff while I joined a group that lingered on for post-dinner chatting—among them Brian, Marilyn, Frances and Ayaz, Ralph and Lynn.

It had been a long and tiring day but indeed a very productive one and all of us hunkered down in our rooms for the night filled with gratification for what we had seen.

Until tomorrow, Hakuna Matata (No Troubles, No Worries).