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).