Snowman

Harry & Snowman

Snowman & Harry

Tim & Kerri's safari - orphan elephants

Tim & Kerri's safari

Tim & Kerri's safari

Tim & Kerri's safari

Tim & Kerri's safari

Tim & Kerri's safari

Tim & Kerri's safari

Tim & Kerri's safari

Tim & Kerri's safari

We arrived in Naroibi via London at 8:00 pm local time. Plan was to stay in a local hotel for three nights, travel to a camp and spend three nights, then move on to a very lux camp for three nights and then home.

Our first stop was House of Waine.

-----House of Waine.

This former private residence is now a boutique hotel inside a privately fenced and guarded compound in Karen, the upscale suburb of Nairobi. It is within easy distance of the Sheldrake elephant orphanage,

the Giraffe Center adjacent to the iconic, but mostly out of reach financially, Giraffe Manor, and the obligatory pilgrimage to the Kazuri Bead factory. It is perfectly situated for a gentle transition to the time zone

and the culture, and to practice your seven words of Swahili. Thank you Charles, Benjamin, Obedaiah and the many others who assured the quality of our stay.

Kerri having played the 45th Wedding Anniversary card (and, no doubt, in the absence of other takers) we were given the Malaika (Angel) suite with 25 x 40 bedroom/living room, terrace overlooking the grounds and pool, dressing room

and a bathroom with steeping tub, twin sinks and very large glass contained rain shower. But beyond that, they had gone to exquisite effort rolling towels in the shape of hearts, decorated with rose petals, strewn our bed

with rose petals and spelled out Happy 45th Anniversary in rose petals on the king sized bed.

Transportation had been a little klugie so we arrived at almost 10:30 local time but they had kept the kitchen open for us or us to provide dinner included in our stay. Our first day, designated a rest day,

Benjamin insisted on setting out lunch for us in solitary splendor by the pool in the company of exotic birds and a brief visit by a family of monkeys.

They saved the best for last, again celebrating our anniversary with a last night of dining in a private dining room in front of a wood fired fireplace and repeated the rose petal theme in greeting.

-----Tortilis Camp

When you land in Amboseli, you have seen wildebeests and elephants from the sky, but from the tarmac it looks like Luke Skywalker's home planet - harsh, featureless and dry. A desert planet. We had no idea what to expect.

The area is suffering epic drought.

On the way to the camp we began to engage. We saw elephants grazing next the road, unafraid and undisturbed by vehicle traffic, so close it seemed you could reach out and touch them. Baboons. And yes, lionesses lying in the bush at a distance.

Our guide explained that lions are lazy animals resting 19 hours a day and waiting for their food to come to them in contrast with elephants who browse and eat 19 hours a day to sustain their size.

The beauty of this place begins to seep into your bones. There is so much life. Zebras, gazelles, and wildebeests, the latter being one of the "ugly five" along with hyenas, warthogs, jackals, and vultures. Ultimately, the wildebeests feed the rest.

There is death all around. It is a drought and the land is picked clean. The elephants walk 25 kilometers a day commuting between water and food. The ground is littered with bones and dung both of which define the reality of this land,

the bones speaking of the past and future and the dung promising the reseeding and renewal that will come with the rains. The metrics are inescapable. Death is a part of life. The wildebeests with their numbers feed the predators and the scavengers.

In this drought the only fat animals are the hyenas and the jackals. For them business is good. When the rains come, the grazing animals will prosper and the pickings will be less for the scavengers.

So we arrive at Tortilis Camp. Here irrigation maintains green grass and, upon entering, you pass a vibrant vegetable garden. The main buildings are set on a hill overlooking a man made wildlife watering hole. The conical and environmentally harmonious,

but beautifully tiled and maintained, buildings appointed with rich local hardwoods speak of old Africa and fine men's clubs. The managers, whose Scottish burr charms the ear, are welcoming. The word lodge takes on new meaning.

-----You Don 't Want A Baboon in Your Tent

Graeme gives the briefing as you sit in the magnificent lodge overlooking the waterhole completing a minimalist registration process. He graciously explains that the camp is fenced with electric fence to keep out elephants and dangerous animals.

You are welcome to walk unescorted throughout the camp. Within the compound you will see dikdiks, many birds, weasels and, yes, baboons who casually leap the fence in their own cirque de soleil. You are cautioned to keep your tent flap zipped, because

"you don't want a baboon in your tent."

-----Words to live by.

The "tent" is a tent in the same sense that a diamond is a rock. The tent, set on a raised platform with polished hardwood floors is roughly 20 x 15' and is beautifully appointed. At the rear of the tent is a fully appointed structure containing a bathroom with

double sinks, a toilet and tiled hot and cold shower with rain head. Perhaps the only compromise is that the tent's solar powered electrical system will not support a hair dryer (although there is one available at a central location). In front of the tent is a tiled

and abundantly furnished patio. The entire tent, bath and patio are sheltered under a thatch roofed structure so that, should it rain, not a drop will fall on the tent. More important, during the heat of the day, the tent remains cool and protected from the sun.

From our tent (and the majority of other tents) you look out on a game trail where elephant families travel to the watering hole and back along with Thompson's gazelles, grand gazelles, zebra, and impala who create, along with the baboons, a panoramic cross

section of wildlife. We were guided to our tent by Paul, who served as porter, maid, laundryman and butler throughout our three day stay. He has a playful sense of humor and,before showing us the bath, asked us if we have ever before stayed in a camp

without a shower, and made clear that he will turn laundry around with same day service, but does not launder underwear. You must do this yourself and he offers (before we see the sinks) to provide a bucket. Then the full length mirror on door to the bath

yields and provides the punchline.

Tortilis Camp employees are mostly Masai, who dress in the camp western dress uniform, speak a minimum of three languages and bring a special relationship to the land. Tortilis "safaris" are the only ones allowed in the Masai reserve and bring you closer

to the animals and the contrasts of this place than can be found in the national parks where all the tour groups flock to the sighting of a lion or cheetah. More about the Masai later.

I would rate Tortilis as most user friendly on our trip, with high service levels, but without the sense that everyone was holding his breath for what you might require next. It is a stunning place but not overdone. You feel comfortable here.

-----Bushtops, Maasai Mara

Bushtops is a lux camp also along the Tanzanian border, but at higher altitude than Amboseli. It is near, if you can take the beating on the very rough road, to Maasai Mara National Park. It was here we saw the great migration, thousands of wildebeests,

in the national parks where all the hundreds of zebras and a river crossing. Also hippos, crocodiles, cheetas and the now familiar lions.

At Bushtops, there are no fences and, after dark, Maasai in full native garb, with spears, bows and long knives, escort you from building to building. On the other hand, your "tent" has two showers, a hot tub and a pretty fancy telescope.

Breakfast can be served on your veranda while looking out as the giraffes begin to feed in the trees a hundred feet away..

We found this place awesome, but frankly more than we needed. Except I guess for the lions around our "tent."

-----Internal Air Transportation in Kenya

Our trip required flights from Wilson Airport in Nairobi to Ambrosili, from Ambrosili to Mara, from Mara to Wilson Airport. Having experienced local air service in the Caribbean and witnessing the large collection of small, somewhat antique,

aircraft upon landing on Nairobi International's sole runway, and then again at Wilson Airport, I was not filled with optimism. My view was further prejudiced by the many novels I have read about plane crashes, navigational anomalies, violent wind sheer,

afternoon thunder storms while flying in Africa (admittedly mostly set in the Congo).

But mostly I feared lost luggage.

In fact, air transport was seamless. Safarilink Air seems to fly the considerably seasoned Cessna 208 Caravan in varying states of shabby, but the avionics are new, with multiple Garmin screens and driven by a pilot and a second pair of eyes and hands,

probably not a pilot, but at least a species of flight engineer. They provide (which should be exemplar for the airlines of the Caribbean) a simple luggage handling amenity. They take your luggage and weigh it (in hope of overweight charges -none in our case)

and check it. Then, when your flight is called, you are lead out onto the tarmac. The luggage for your flight is arrayed on the tarmac and you are asked to identify your bags, which are then put in the queue to be loaded. You then board the aircraft and can pretty

much keep visual contact with your luggage. This simple procedure accomplishes both the security function (no bag gets loaded that's not attached to someone who got on the airplane) and assures that you luggage will arrive in the same plane

as you will. Upon landing, the process is followed in reverse and your bags go off to your camp or hotel. Flights have been on time or, if everyone expected is on board, early.

Spoke too soon. Our departure from Bushtops Camp was moved up unexpectedly and without explanation. Simply told the plane was going to be half an hour early. So we left at 9:45 local time rather than the planned 10:15 to make the now 10:30 flight

from the Mara Airstrip. I should mention that this is a dirt strip with a windsock, no pretense of control or management. As we boarded the venerable Cessna 208 caravan the aircrew told us we would be doing a seven minute low level flight to another airstrip

where we would change planes for our flight to Wilson Nairobi.

This turned out to be Keekorok Airstrip, an unprepossessing dirt strip in the middle of nowhere whose identifying sign was decorated with the whitened skulls of wildebeest and buffalo. Taking it on faith, we were decanted from the plane and met by some

pleasant, un-uniformed and otherwise unidentified, person who assured us that another airplane would be along. His twenty minute estimate turned out to be off by a factor of three, but, indeed, after some delay a Safarilink Dash 8, big airplane

for that strip, appeared. After some suspense, we were able to confirm that we were on the manifest and allowed to board for seamless flight to Wilson, Nairobi.

-----The People

Wherever we went, from the Pollman's Transportation guy, Dennis, to the depths of the Maasai village we visited, what struck me most was how eager everyone was to engage - to tell us about Kenya, their languages, their culture and cultural progress.

They understand that we come for the animals but they want us to come for them too. Service levels are the highest we have encountered. Tipping is appreciated, but more than that, conversation, listening and sharing something about them and about yourself

is a passion with everyone we met.

There is a cosmopolitan presence in each of them. They are aware of (and currently in the presence of the Trump administration, circumspect and cautious) about the politics of the major players. One night at the bar we (a bar tender, a waiter, a mechanic and I)

had a passionate and well informed discussion of the politics of water, ranging from California, New York State and the Nile. They are acutely aware of the effect taking water out of the Nile has on Israel and Egypt.

There are 42 tribes in Kenya, each with its own language. English is the official language of Kenya.Swahili, which almost everyone tries to teach you, (we acquired roughly seven words - asante, karibu, sawa sawa, hakuna matata, lala salama)

is the language Kenyans of different tribes use to communicate with one another. As a result, most Kenyans speak three languages.

-----The Masai

Our Maasai guide in Ambrosili had Maa, his native tongue, Swahili, fluent English, a conversational level of Spanish that out matched what I have retained from seven years of academic study, and is learning French and Italian. He wears the camp uniform

of greenish khaki,seems to know how to operate every kind of camera we had, is a fine photographer, drives the ubiquitous Toyota Range Rover. He can converse on pretty much any subject. He has a cell phone and uses email.

He is a Maasai elder by rare proclamation - 1,000 Maasai or more attended his celebration - and he is devoted to the animals, to the land and to the Maasai. He lives with his wife and three children (a six month old boy and 2 1/2 year old fraternal twins

- a boy and a girl) in a two room hut the outside of which is plastered with elephant dung, without toilet or running water,. He complains that his daughter is much smarter than his son (this is partly joshing around -

he gets that there are developmental differences between girls and boys). He is committed to sending his children to school.

We have danced with the Maasai in their village, and prayed with the Maasai. One thing for sure, they have better knees than we do. They can jump (a part of their dance) three feet in the air and squat down when praying.

As a part of our introduction, the village ombudsman explains that they treat most illnesses with traditional medicine, but that they are not hidebound. Breech births go to the hospital for medical assistance. Suspected broken bones are taken for x-ray.

They are avowedly and committed to their life as a nomadic a people, herding sheep, cattle and goats. They are Christians. They are unblushingly polygamous. They also unblushingly work you for sympathy and support, telling you at once how the cattle

are dying and extolling the virtues of a woman who contributed money to build a school and who supports many of their children in school. They tell you as well about the fellow who build them a well and tank system, now partially destroyed by an elephant.

They ask you for silly amounts of money for the trinkets that the women make. They don't strictly ask for charity, but systematically try to guilt you into overpaying for local crafts you don't want.

It is tempting to want to send money to the Masai. They are a handsome and engaging people and because of the drought their circumstances are dire. Their stewardship of the land makes them a critical part of the eco-system. Where there are Masai,

there is no poaching. But there is an ethical problem. Their immediate and manifest need aside, their polygamy - where men have more than one wife, but wives have only one husband - and their strictly defined roles for men and women (which, by the way,

seem to boil down to the women doing most of the day to day work) are troublesome.

Their circumstance is the product of the lifestyle they have chosen. You can say that about anyone and it should not automatically disqualify them from being given help. Every time a hurricane inundates some low lying region of the United States or wipes

out a beach community, we can ask why we should make people the objects of our charity who chose to live below sea level or who decided to maintain elaborate houses on a barrier beach. Why should federally subsidized flood insurance programs and FEMA

wade in with billions to rescue people who have made such, in hindsight, questionable choices?

Like America's indigenous people, they have been screwed over in some land deals, but have largely been canny negotiators, giving up Nairobi for lands reserved to them that, but for the drought, serve their need for grazing land.

To me they seem more like the Amish than like American Indians. They choose a lifestyle and a set of their own rules, but adapt as needed to the pressures around them. The Masai have abandoned tradition and no longer kill lions and elephants because,

as our guide explained, they understand that if they kill lions and elephants the tourists will not come and pay $20 a head to visit their villages.

So I will make a contribution to the restoration of the well, partially of money and partially of some ideas I have that should make it possible to restore in place than their current plan. But the Masai will not become my charity.

Better to send the money to Meru where my wife's colleagues have established an orphanage and school for children who lost their parents to aids. But I am honored to have met members of the Maasai and wish them well.

-----A Word About Security

Friends of ours expressed doubt about the wisdom of visiting Kenya at a time when there is considerable electoral unrest. Having held an election in which the incumbent won against a challenger who cried foul throughout the campaign, the Kenyan

Supreme Court unexpectedly vacated the outcome and ordered a new election to be held. There have been some demonstrations and protests in city center, Nairobi.

What we found, however, was mostly bland news reports of a political process that was producing deadlock, with neither side willing to compromise. Deep suspicion on one side of electronic ballots and distrust on the other for paper.

Sound familiar? Remember Bush/Gore and hanging chads?

Frankly the Kenyan political situation seemed a lot more stable than what we are going through in the US. And no need to look back at civil wars, the Viet Nam War, Nixon, Watergate, the serial scandals of the Clinton administration,

Benghazi, and our current president, whose being investigated for possible collusion with Russia to influence the election seems trivial next to his hyperactive and impulsive lashing out to no clear purpose. And then we have the massacre in Las Vegas.

So is Kenya safe for tourists? Emphatically so. And the lions around our "tent" one night. Well, I'll admit their roaring woke me. But so does the whining and crying of our beloved domestic cat, Booboo, but without the elan.

And it is hard to work up a good case of anxiety when wrapped with your love of 49 years in fine linens, hot water bottle between your ankles (yes, it gets chilly at night). There is a panic button, a whistle and a flashlight to summon the Maasai

who patrol the grounds. But you would have to wake up fully to get involved in all of that.

Velvet paws, puddy tat.