East Africa, Part 4 – Samburu and Amboseli

This piece was written in February, 2002 when Eddie spent a month traveling in East Africa. 

Still in East Africa and on day five of our safari, we drove through the Central Highlands of Kenya. This is an area east of the Rift Valley at higher elevation surrounding Mt. Kenya, which at 5199 meters (14, 200 feet) is the second highest peak in Africa. Its majestic presence, when not obscured by clouds, is quite imposing. This region is extremely fertile and was once known as the “White Highlands”, as the Colonial Government encouraged European settlers to take up residence there and develop a strong agricultural economy.

Maize, sisal and especially coffee were of great importance, as was the raising of livestock. The British were optimistic about building a base there for export and invested heavily in the necessary infrastructure. At the same time, they banned the growing and selling of coffee by locals in order to ensure the availability of cheap labor for their farms and plantations. All this would eventually be of great importance, both economically and politically.

The primary people of the Highlands were and are the Kikuyu, the largest of 42 tribes in Kenya, comprising about 21% of the population. They are excellent farmers and because land was the dominant social, political, religious and economic factor in their lives, and since land became the central issue in the struggle for self-rule, the Kikuyu were also in the vanguard of the independence movement. They were a major driving force, along with the Luo (the second largest tribe), in developing a political community in opposition to colonial rule, and consequently were heavily suppressed by the British, particularly in reaction to the Kikuyu-based Mau Mau rebellion in the 50’s (over 20,000 were placed in detention camps and many thousands were killed). The first president of Kenya, Jomo Kenyatta, was Kikuyu. Even now Kikuyu are very prominent in Kenya’s business, commercial and political activities. Come to Africa Safaris Ltd., our safari providers, one of the few African-owned safari companies in the country, is Kikuyu owned.

Samburu/Buffalo Springs National Park, about 60 miles north of Mt. Kenya, is actually one of two adjoining parks that lie in a lowland area which is fairly hot and arid, it was hauntingly reminiscent for me of the southwestern United States, especially the so-called “high desert” area in central Arizona. The two sides of the park are divided by the Ewaso Nyiro River and entering the park our first night just before dusk we got a brief glimpse of a leopard sneaking through the undergrowth along the river looking for the ideal spot to lie in ambush. It was not far from there that we camped, smack dab in the middle of the park, which you will later discover made our time in Samburu even more interesting.

Samburu is not as densely populated with animals as Masai Mara or Lake Nakuru, but there are not as many visitors and vehicles there either. Here we saw different varieties of both zebras and ostriches than previously.  This was also our first view of the handsome oryx, a large antelope with very long, straight and heavily ridged, spiral horns, along with unusual black markings on its face and body. Also of interest was the gerenuk, a much smaller antelope that’s commonly seen browsing from bushes on its hind legs…quite an odd sight. Are the leaves at the top of the bushes that much tastier? And then there’s the diminutive dik-dik, an antelope that stands only about 15 inches high, so tiny and cute that it seems better suited to a peaceful Zen garden than to these treacherous surroundings.

What we especially enjoyed watching were the baboons congregating in large groups, sometimes dozens at a time, and which are great fun to watch as they are always busy doing something. Always. And it seemed as though each baboon was doing something entirely different. Usually on the ground, but occasionally in trees as well, they are constantly in motion: running, itching, eating, playing, squabbling, climbing, jumping and having sex.

So far I haven’t really shared that much about the bird life in the parks, but it is highly diverse and also incredibly beautiful: secretary birds, varieties of guinea fowl, eagles, hawks, hornbills, herons, egrets, hammer kops, cormorants, storks, vultures, crowned cranes, and one of my favorites, the small and aptly named superb starlings, which often frequented our camp looking for handouts. These are just a few – Kenya has over 1200 species.  The bird with my favorite name is the white-billed bastard.

Our campsite had a simple latrine, a nearby faucet for washing up, our tents, and the “kitchen”, a simple but effective setup where our cook Peter worked his magic. The best food by far that we had in Kenya was at our campsites, courtesy of our appointed cooks. Each meal was carefully and deliciously prepared, proudly presented, and voraciously consumed. The cook’s job was also to guard the camp in our absence against marauders, especially baboons. We were advised not to leave our footwear outside our tent at night, or at any other time for that matter, as it would surely be stolen. From the sound of it, the baboons probably have a cache of shoes that rivals Imelda Marcos.

Our first evening at the Samburu campsite, Heide had an unsettling surprise as she was sorting through her stuff in the tent…a scorpion! It had rudely invited itself in, since we had apparently been remiss in zipping up soon enough after stowing our gear. Having lived and backpacked in Arizona for 19 years, scorpions were no big deal to me, but this was her first introduction to one and she was not at all pleased. Elly quickly stepped on it…crunch.

At night after dinner I would sit around the fire, sip a local beer (Tusker, Safari or Kilimanjaro), and talk with our driver, cook and campsite helpers.  These are men who are often separated from their families more than they are with them in order to provide for them. These conversations afforded me an invaluable opportunity to gain a still deeper insight into a people for whom tradition and family life are important, who are proud yet humble, and who are patient and enduring through all the difficulties they face – still quick to smile and laugh. When prompted, they had loads of yarns to spin and eagerly did so. So many priceless stories they shared. Later, before turning in there was time to peacefully gaze at the luminously clear sky, stars glittering, and to listen to the choir of cicadas and the hyenas and elephants fill the still-warm evening air with their symphony.

Have you ever had to get up in the middle of the night to pee? You too, huh? When camping? That night I stumbled out of the tent and into the nearby bushes and was taking care of business when a huge beam of light spotlighted me like I was center stage at Carnegie Hall. Imagine my surprise. No worries…just a ranger patrolling the grounds – standard procedure.

The next morning at breakfast Peter informed us that an elephant had come through the grounds during the night. When I asked him if this happens often, he shared that on one recent occasion an elephant had paid a visit and decided to rearrange the campsite a little. “A tarpaulin was blocking its way so it ripped it down!” Urban renewal, African style. I asked him what he had done when the elephant arrived. “I ran!” he confessed. That very moment I solemnly vowed from that point onwards to significantly restrict my intact of fluids during the evening.

The river running through the park created special opportunities for viewing game, since in that desert-like environment it is essential for all the wildlife to make periodic visits there. From our vantage points perched along its bank, we observed herds of elephants drink their fill and cool themselves off, spraying water and covering themselves with mud like little children. But it is not quite as convenient or fun for the giraffes to drink.  They must awkwardly spread their front legs to reach the water, putting them in a highly vulnerable position to attack from lions or leopards. So they would look, look, look, and then take a drink…then look, look, look, and then take another…and so on. Grevys zebras also trotted up to drink, glancing around nervously, their tails constantly swatting the ever-present flies.

Late our second afternoon in Samburu, we drove around for quite some time, back and forth along the haphazard grid of dirt roads that weave their way through the park, seldom spotting any game. But it mattered little as I became captivated by the intricate richness of the landscape: the rich tapestry of subtle colors, and dramatic contrast of gigantic trees and miniscule cacti and flowers. A gentle and much welcomed breeze stirred the carpet of thick yellowing grass, various kinds of birds and lizards scurried here and there across the dusty red road and into the dense scrub, and above it all soared a vast vista of dark rolling hills and a vividly blue sky punctuated by puffy white clouds. Occasionally a dust devil swirled madly and was soon extinguished. I was reminded again of what Hemingway wrote while here, “Nothing I have ever read has given me any idea of the beauty of the country.”

Eventually we stopped to watch a family of baboons, entertaining as always. Then remarkably, Elly somehow spotted a leopard crouched down in the bushes. He pointed, “It’s right over there!” and Heide and I searched and searched and searched for it but just could not find it anywhere amongst the tangle of grass, trees and brush. This went on for nearly ten minutes and I thought my eyes would pop out of my head as I peered out so intensely, so desperately wanting to see it. But eventually it stepped out into the open only about ten feet away from us and then slowly walked directly in front of our van and into another bush. There the leopard remained hidden, hoping impalas or gazelles would unsuspectingly stroll by. We could barely see the top of its head just above the grass. It waited…and we waited…patiently.

Suddenly one of the baboons realized that the leopard was there and a big male strutted up to within a few feet of where it was lying, puffed out its chest and chattered out an angry warning as if to say, “Back off, Jack!”. I thought, “This is the mighty leopard it’s challenging. Does this baboon have a death wish?” But what amazed us both was that the leopard instantly did back off, dropping down completely out of sight. I asked Elly about this and he surprised us with the fact that a leopard will not mess with a baboon, a tremendously strong and fierce animal with massive teeth. This is no cuddly chimp we talking about here folks. This is a one real badass!

After two nights at Samburu we headed south to Amboseli National Park, which demanded a full day of bone-jarring, teeth-rattling traveling, occasionally passing scattered towns and villages, as well as farms and plantations, the larger of which are still foreign-owned. Each of the communities had a similar appearance: dusty pot-holed streets; single-storied, tattered-looking stores and shops with shaded arcades; lines of makeshift stalls filled with bananas, mangos, papayas and other freshly-picked fruit; and always several ramshackle buildings with hand-written lettering in white paint scrawled on their bleak facades advertising “Hotel”.

Frighteningly shabby-looking from afar, I could only imagine what a room inside was like and shuddered at the very thought of actually spending a night in any of them. Outside on the streets people were everywhere, either busy with their daily routines, or else just standing or sitting around. Wherever we were in Africa, there were always huge numbers of people, just standing or sitting around, seemingly doing nothing.

There are two reasons why most people come to Amboseli. The first is the Big K. – Mt. Kilimanjaro, the mother of all mountains in Africa – its highest, magnificent and quite legendary. Hemingway waxed poetic about it, “As wide as all the world.” Millions upon countless millions have photographed it. A good many travelers to Africa have puked their guts out trying to climb it. Yours truly has lusted over it since I was an adolescent thumbing through National Geographic and Outdoor Life magazines.

The second reason is the elephants. We saw lots of other animals there, many of the ones I have mentioned already, but the main memories I have from Amboseli regarding the wildlife are of its extraordinary elephants.  Granted, there are elephants in many parks and reserves in East Africa, but those in Amboseli are extra special. First of all, they are generally the largest you are likely to see anywhere, with probably the largest tusks of any, as well. Why? Even though much of the park is semi-arid, there is a significant marshy area that results from run-off from the snows of Kilimanjaro. So even during the dry season when other parks and reserves offer slim pickings for grazing, there is an abundance of food in Amboseli for all the grass-eaters.

An elephant will consume as much as 600 pounds of food per day and here it is Fat City year-round. They get really huge – over six tons! And the tusks? I saw a few bulls with tusks that nearly reached the ground. Some must have been as much as six feet long. And there are a LOT of elephants there. At one point we parked the van and looked out at approximately 200 of them milling around, mostly eating of course. That is a sight you will not easily forget, I assure you.

It was at Amboseli that I saw what was the funniest thing that any animal did on our safaris. It had to do with a wildebeest (gnu), which should be of no surprise to those familiar with the wildlife there. Now the wildebeest is a strange animal to start with. First of all, it is generally acknowledged by most everyone to be the stupidest animal in all of Africa, a dubious distinction to be sure. Their behavior is certainly eccentric to say the least.  They can be observed in their herds snorting, tossing and shaking their heads, bucking for no apparent reason, and running around in circles like complete idiots.

In their annual migration, which runs from July to October, and which apparently is an absolutely staggering spectacle to behold, countless numbers of wildebeest thunder from one end of the Serengeti Plains to the other in search of greener pastures. Now get this. When they come to a river, they act like they’ve never seen one before! They will stand around looking at it, and looking at each other, as if wondering what to do next. Eventually one of them will boldly decide to take the plunge – literally.  And then they will all wildly lurch in, one after another, diving on to rocks and on to each other so recklessly that huge numbers will perish from killing either themselves or each other in their haste and stupidity.

Naturally the crocodiles just love this. All they need to do is just lie in the river, wait for carcasses to drift by, and then gorge themselves to their heart’s content. When we were there, the ranger at the hippo pool in Mara told us that so many wildebeest perish at that river crossing that sometimes the stench of death is so bad that you can’t get anywhere near the water without practically barfing.

Well, in addition to not being such a bright animal, the wildebeest just might also be the ugliest creature in all of Africa, though the warthog and the hyena would surely rack up a fair number of votes in that category as well. But on top of that, I am suggesting that this animal might also be the most cowardly of them all. Here’s why. In Amboseli we were watching a pair of crowned cranes, a magnificent bird with jazzy yellow crests on its head, that’s fairly common in the parks and reserves. With them was their tiny, tiny chick we could barely see in the grass.

Well here comes a wildebeest all by its lonesome, which is not so smart in and of itself considering that this makes it easy pickings for even a half-blind, half-lame, senile lion. Anyway, as it ambles along towards the cranes they decide that he is getting just too close for comfort to their precious offspring, so one them spreads its wings out fully to a diameter of about a five feet. You would have thought that the wildebeest had just barreled into a high-powered electric fence, as it jumped back a good meter and raced off in terror with its tail between its legs. You could almost hear the cranes laughing their tail feathers off.

When I think about all this, and then see how many wildebeest are still around, it makes me question a little Darwin’s theory of “the survival of the fittest”. In this case maybe it’s “the survival of the stupidest”.

As we drove through Amboseli Park the clouds began to tantalizingly lift off of Kilimanjaro, just ever so slowly. In time, we could see patches of snow here and there. Then more. And then finally the full summit was in view and I could not take my eyes off of it. I was totally spellbound! The tears rolled down my cheeks as I felt the fulfillment of a life-long yearning.  Being here and seeing this mountain, for me, represented the culmination of so many years of longing, years of hoping, years of saying to myself, “Someday I must and will see Kilimanjaro!” Taking it all in embodied all that Africa had ever meant to me, all I ever wanted to know about it, and all that I had experienced on this trip. All those thoughts and feelings rushed through me like a cyclone I wiped away the tears and more came, and I turned and said to Heide, “This is one of the happiest days of my life.”  And I really meant it!

I will have more to say at another time about Swahili, the common language of East Africa, but for now I’ll share with you just one word: “baraka”. Like so many other words in Swahili, it has a beautiful sound to it. But I think the meaning is even more magnificent: “blessing”. Gazing out at this magical mountain, I felt a deep, deep sense of privilege and gratitude, and knew that I was embracing a joyful baraka.

Next in my journey…Tanzania,