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).
No comments:
Post a Comment