5:57 (American time), 11 August, 2011

We shopped until we dropped the rest of the day; I never wanted to see a kurio shop again by the time we were finished. The best place we went was called “Kazuri Beads.” It’s a bead factory where the beads are fashioned from clumps of clay, all the way to being arranged on necklaces and bracelets. The company was started to employ single mothers, and it’s flourishing. We received a tour from clay clump to necklace, watching the women shape and paint the beads beautiful designs, passing the ovens where they were baked. I have to get my mom there someday because I know she would absolutely love it. There wasn’t a thing in that shop that wasn’t beautifully crafted. The women and men employed at the shop also make some gorgeous pottery.

After shopping, we went to the place I had been itching to go all day: the elephant orphanage. It takes in elephants from all over Kenya whose mothers have been killed, mostly by poachers, and then releases them back into the wild once they are healthy and strong enough. They also have two black rhinos, one of which is blind and will be there forever. :( We stood watching a single file line of baby elephants being brought in from the fields. Both they and the rhinos were colored red from the dirt, confusing us for a moment as we thought they were a different species. The elephants were all relatively small, and one was extremely little. The older one in front of it wouldn’t keep walking until it was sure the little one was behind it. The trainer assured us this was a common occurrence, although he didn’t mention any relation between the two. The elephants were led into separate little penned areas with a small shelter where they were fed bottled milk (talk about big bottles!). The employees sleep on a raised cot in the shelter, and must feed the elephants every three hours. However, they don’t need to set alarm clocks, because the elephants reach their trunks up to poke them awake come feeding time. That job would beat almost any other I can think of. How amazing would it be to spend twenty-four hours working with a baby elephant? I think I would die of utter joy.

While the smallest elephant was being fed, I walked over to peer down at her with her little blanket on. She reached her trunk up towards me, and the guy with the milk told me to go ahead, so I reached my hand out and touched that fabulous appendage. She took the tip of her trunk and curled it into my hand as though holding it, gently pulling it towards her, and my whole world stopped in revolution around the sight and feel of us holding onto each other. It was unreal.

We ended up adopting an elephant called Kilibasi (she is named after the place from whence she came). Kilibasi was brand new, and so didn’t have much support yet. She stole my heart in her confused state, flaring out her ears and running her employee out of the pen. Lia and I knelt staring at her, and she jogged towards us and threw out her trunk through the widely spaced bars. She grabbed my hand and tried to take it in towards her, feeling it to discover my intent, or maybe to see if it held some hidden food. Touching an elephant is like nothing I’ve ever done before. Even just watching them maneuver their trunks and mischievously try to steal one another’s leaves was incredible, let alone touching them. I can’t deny it; elephants are one of my very favorite animals. They make my insides cry with a special exquisiteness that no other animal can quite replicate.

It’s no wonder the orphanage only allows people to visit for an hour, because I think we IRES girls never would have left. As it were, we headed out to the parking lot to find a flat tire. I learned how to use the jacks that terrify me by watching Dave, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to use one after hearing stories of what they’ve done to people. Because it was too late to go fix the flat, we avoided risking our spare by ordering in a massive amount of Indian food. While we waited for it to arrive, we looked at pictures from the summer, laughing hard and hurting because it was already over and we would be parting the next day. Then we gorged to our hearts’ content on delectable food that had us running back and forth to the kitchen for more water.

Yesterday Janie, Lia, and I helped Zach with the abominable camp shopping list, spending two to three hours in Nakumatt and coming out with five packed carts that would hardly budge. Andy Booms, one of the graduate students who had just arrived back at the cottage to try and get some permits for his project, had to come and bring us more camp money while we were checking out. It was nice to officially meet him after seeing him so often in the lab; he’s super nice. We ate outside a little restaurant following Nakumatt. Lia set Janie and I off laughing over something stupid on the television we could just glimpse on the inside, and I spilled half my salad on the pants I was to wear on the plane.

Packed, at the cottage waiting for the taxi. We all order pizza, Janie and I eat the majority. Dave takes us each outside separately to get our opinions on the inaugural IRES program, and then the time is here. We load into the taxis, and I have a pleasant talk with the driver, whose name was Joseph. Then the time has finally come, we walk into the airport, go through customs, sit down to wait. Janie is going on a separate flight to Paris, and I ache with the approaching goodbye. She pulls out her ukulele, and she and I sing “Leaving on a Jet Plane” and the modified “Wagon Wheel” we had rewritten to apply to the summer. Soon she has to go, and hands us each a special little note, mine makes me cry after she’s left. Other than my brother, I don’t think I have ever met anyone who thinks so much of other people.

In Amsterdam, we had to say goodbye to Adrianna, equally difficult. I hate goodbyes; there’s no good way to go about them, because they drip with innate sadness. Thank goodness I still have Lia sitting next to me as I write for the last time; I don’t even want to know what that goodbye is going to be like. Dave and Julia will be with me at MSU, and will even be riding home with me, so no worries there.

By the time I post this, I will have run into my mom’s arms like I’ve imagined a million times on this trip home, and given my grandma a huge hug as well. I’ll probably have just cuddled Albus, be waiting anxiously for my dad to get home from work, talking to my brother on the phone, or (most likely) have been zonked out on the couch with jet leg for four plus hours. In short, I’ll be home. I’ll be home, and I will owe this summer of living my dream, of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had, of growing and learning and reveling in nature to Professor Kay Holekamp. I could never repay her for the passion that has driven her to do things that no one else could fathom, and for her willingness and desire to share her unbelievable success with others. Living like Jane Goodall was more than I ever could have hoped for.

11:13, Wednesday, 10 August, 2011

Driving out of the Mara at 6:30 in the morning, I couldn’t decide if it felt more like we had just gotten there or like we had lived there our whole lives. Time is one of life’s great mysteries that I will never understand. All I knew was a melancholy, precarious emotional perch that I wasn’t sure how to handle.

We met Benson in Narok for breakfast. We wanted to say goodbye since the unexpected arrival of his baby boy. He was glowing with his newfound fatherhood, explaining how he had been so afraid of dropping the tiny bundle the first time he held him. The baby’s name is in Maa, and means “blessing”. Benson is going to be a great dad.

I rode with Janie and Zach to Nairobi. It was so nice to see them both again! Janie and I are alike in so many ways; she is in love with life. We had good conversations on books and dozed in and out, sometimes closing our eyes merely to escape watching the matatus and other cars whizzing around the Hilux. The landscape changed dramatically. Nairobi was bursting with people and colorful flowers. The color was nice, but it was a hard realization that I was leaving the simple life I love. I’m not looking forward to adjusting back to a life filled with unnecessary things.

However, there were definitely some perks. We stayed in Steph’s ridiculously nice house. She hurt her back and kindly gave her house to us while away. If you remember, Steph has five dogs, and I couldn’t stay away from them. Lotti (sp), Dingo, Dasha (sp), Arkon (sp), and Trout were all so happy to see us. Every chance I got I went outside to shower them with love. Lotti and Dasha are beyond sweet; Dingo is an absolute attention hog. When he wasn’t off chasing monkeys, he was growling away the others, wiggling his whole body to block your path and demanding you lavish him with pets. Arkon and Trout were mostly kept separate due to their strict training; I met Patrick, the guy about my age who is taking care of them. He and Consilatta (sp), Steph’s housekeeper (I could not get used to having someone make my bed and do the dishes for me...weird), are wonderful people. I enjoyed the brief contact we had.

Janie and Adrianna stayed in the guesthouse where Lia and I had slept our first two nights in Kenya; Lia and I slept in Ollie’s enormous room. We rejoiced over a rediscovery of flush toilets, and had way too much fun in those bunkbeds. Lia was on top and would purposefully move around so that I shook all over the place, then I’d retaliate by pounding on my newfound pseudoceiling. Sometimes we swear we’re still twelve years old.

I woke up from a nap to a warthog on its knees grazing in the yard. Then we headed to a restaurant! Poor Dave had to explain to the guy waiting on us that we had been in the bush for the past two months. We were so excited over the food! Everyone agreed that it’s a good thing Janie and I weren’t put in the same camp the way we annihilated an entire pizza, panini, and some calamari all on our own. Together we’re a force to be reckoned with. After eating we went shopping for breakfast and snacks at Nakumatt. WE GOT ICE CREAM! We spent at least fifteen minutes settling on what type to get, wide-eyed as though we had never seen the stuff before. We ended up with caramel almond- delicious.

Back at Steph’s, we hunted through the DVD’s to find The Lion King. Ollie has the sing-along version...even better! It was powerful watching it in Africa. I got so many shivers. The hyenas are mistreated though; I hadn’t noticed it to the extent it’s apparent. At least the female is dominant. That counts for a morsel of accuracy I suppose. We ate our ice cream and cried over Mufasa’s death, laughed at Pumba and Timon, re-fell in love with Rafiki. Plus, we correctly identified all of the antelope species. There are hartebeest at the beginning!!!

Tuesday morning I took a tip from Janie and went for a run. It was fun to experience running in a new environment; Nairobi is really a pretty place considering. I love the red dirt and endless hills. Gee whiz though, I missed the clean air! The contrast was amazing, and definitely made breathing harder. I saw a guy riding the most beautiful horse while leading another, passed smiling women dressed in colorful vitengi (traditional African dress). One of them told me I was “rocking the morning.” :) Two boys ran in jeans and long-sleeved shirts, workers were out fixing the streets, and I found a beautiful seminary just before it was time to turn around.

Returning to Steph’s, I took my first hot shower since June 13^th.

22:55, Monday, 8 August, 2011

Happy birthday Alex; I will always miss you.

Our last full day in the Mara dawned on a plethora of our hyenas at Horseshoe Lugga, interacting like mad. It was wonderful to watch the full range of their behavior one last time. I actually saw one’s mouth when it giggled; it almost looked like it came out the sides, with the front still mostly closed. Two others social sniffed a spot on the ground, there were lots of greets and aggressions. And little Zenny came over to the car to say goodbye.

The sun cast pink on the clouds above while first opening its eyes beneath the escarpment; their edges were limned in an achingly beautiful hue. The morning felt perfect. It was chilly as usual, with a slight wind, clouds covering half the sky. The other half was mostly sunny, the change occurring halfway across the dome. I was careful to drink in the sights of the plains and familiar landmarks, most especially the Sleeping Maasai Mountain and the Northern Bump.

Things couldn’t have been more perfect for our last obs session. Aside from the hyenas, I most wanted to see a baby elephant one more time. We did. I thought it would be nice to view the pride of sixteen lions one more time. We found them. On top of that, we saw another serval! It was eating on a wildebeest kill all by itself. The unique splendor of the creature was magnified in the daylight. I noticed how tiny its head was, flowing into its slender striped neck to become a slightly disproportional spotted body and halved tail. Lia was ecstatic; she loves servals most of all. Guinea fowl were appropriately strewn across our path on the ride back to camp. Janie calls them balloons on legs, a description that advances in excellence every time I see them.

It was a strange day. Sentiments on leaving hung subdued in the air, and became an iceberg whose tip I kept trying to push back underwater, unwilling to deal with sorting out what I should be feeling. I realized my first full twinge of sadness while running for the last time towards the mountains, waving at the Maasai, and crossing the river back into the acacia trees surrounding camp. I always regain full appreciation for a place when I know I will be leaving, and see it as though for the first time.

Everyone from Serena arrived around 4:15 so that camp was bustling. Dave brought me the cord I needed, and I printed out the last pictures for the Serena Lion and Cheetah Book, which is officially finished, finally. Janie calls it my baby. It feels good to have something to leave behind.

Brian, Eli, Janie, Lia, and I went out one last time. The cruiser didn’t have much gas left, and it was Brian’s last opportunity to be out on the Mara after being here since December, so we collectively decided to take it easy and just enjoy the ride. I tracked for fun; we found Adonis, Roosevelt, and a few others. When the sun started to set behind the low clouds, we stopped the car and climbed out onto the roof, huddling together in the evening chill until the moon peeked out to cast faint shadows. I might have stayed up there all night, packing every last blade of grass safely into memory.

We hardly fit around the table at dinner, and young Joseph surprised us with a farewell cake. All of the staff- Stephen, Lasinko, Joseph Mzee, Young Joseph, and Jackson- joined us around the table to eat it. Looking around at my friends’ faces- Dave next to Julia next to Joseph Mzee next to Brian on one side, Eli next to Young Joseph next to Stephen and Lasinko on the end, Jackson next to Adrianna next to Lia next to me next to Janie on the other side- I saw a picture of what things are supposed to be. Individuals from two completely different worlds sitting and laughing and joking together, no real differences past culture and tongue. Joseph, Jackson, and Stephen gave us a Maa lesson, and we joked around with different uses of the words, learning the different hand motions for the numbers, including that for number ten which can be employed as a curse. There was a breach in the gap of humor that sometimes exists between different peoples. That night will go down in history as one of those rare times when I understand the world is going to be okay.

Kelsey came to say goodbye. I am going to miss her more than I should. The bushbabies said goodbye a couple nights prior when they held my hand.

And so I packed up as much as possible and settled down one more time in my comfortable little bed to listen to Africa. Right before I fell asleep, a hyena whooped louder and closer than any all summer.

10:58, Sunday, 7 August, 2011

Friday dawned like autumn; it was cool and windy. Even the cloud cover felt like fall. The last few days have remained windy, making our tent canvas flap and sway.

Ever hear the story of “The Ugly Beesty”? A light-colored baby giraffe, probably only about six or seven feet tall (yes, that’s short in giraffeland) was hanging out all alone in the middle of a group of wildebeest, no other giraffes in sight. She looked so lost, but clearly will turn out to be the most beautiful beesty of all when she grows up and learns she’s actually a giraffe.

The hyenas were amusing a bunch of tourists because they had acquired a little white toddler’s booty and were chasing one another over it. Hyenas sure seem to love shoes. I think a few of the tourists were under the impression that perhaps a hyena had gotten a hold of a child, because they kept driving up to see what we thought of the situation. We assured them that there is a lot of takataka lying around, and the hyenas will just have picked it up from somewhere, e.g. outside of a tent in Serena...

We’ve been doing a lot of prey censuses lately, counting mostly wildebeest, which can be extraordinarily difficult. For Dave’s dissertation we can’t estimate, and I ended up counting a group of 427 (a modest number) very clumped beesties just yesterday. For consistency, some of the censuses have to be done by nine AM. We forgot to do Friday’s until the last minute and had to speed count on the move, stopping only when we discovered a dying wildebeest with a missing eye. It was breathing hard and slow and cracked my heart. However, I didn’t feel upset or the need to look away; death takes on a strange sense of comfort when you are constantly among nature. It becomes peacefully natural, the stage of a life’s surrender.

Later in the afternoon, Lia and I decided to investigate the horrible stench that had been growing around our tent, only to find a dead dog some thirty meters in the bush behind us. Ugh, it was awful! The Josephs were champions and dragged it away. The interesting thing is that they think a baboon killed it! Supposedly baboons are known to injure dogs, and the lack of serious puncture suggested their fowl play. Poor dog. How much would your pride be injured were you killed by a baboon?

It was a gorgeous evening, pure blue sky. Lia and I stayed behind from obs and so enjoyed it in camp; we needed to get away from guys for a while. Three creepy old balloon pilots had been around for the greater part of the afternoon. We were disgusted; I have never had anyone talk about such things in front of me before, and I never intend to again. Trust me, my anger is legitimate. I only wish my dad, brother, and uncles had been here. Eli apologized and said he wouldn’t have invited them had he known they were going to act like that, but we still required some space (not to mention I had an awful headache).

Kelsey came around while we were waiting for Brian and Eli to return for dinner. She touched noses with me while my head lay on the table, and allowed me to stroke her tail without even a flinch. During dinner the bushbabies showed up, and my heart completely melted when Triple B held my thumb in his little hand while eating the food I had offered with his other. I’ll never forget that tiny grasp. And, bushbabies have thumbnails!


12:35

Yesterday we awoke at 4:30 to go to Prozac; I may or may not have slept the entire way there. Platinum came out to say goodbye! I’m really happy I got to see her again before I leave.

We found some new Prozac lions; one was a cute adult male. Most adult males are more majestic than cute, but this one was pudgy with a unique face that would elicit Aunt Marge cheek pinching. He can’t escape that baby face even with his ridiculously large and ink-black mane. He was with a female who has a huge puncture wound in the side of her face. I think Lia is right; it probably got into a scuffle with a warthog. The lioness left the male oddly rubbing his face in a bunch of bushes (alone in his old imaginary world like our Albus?) to part the Red Sea of wildebeest, merely teasing them. They were all turned towards her and kept a wide berth as though she was a magnetic charge and they the iron shavings.

A cheetah romped around on its own, rolling in the grass and jumping in the air. We found a hartebeest baby, such a beautiful sandy-white thing. I always wondered what they looked like when small, having only seen slightly older ones. A bunch of Marabou storks and vultures were gathered around a kill, but it was the aftermath and many of them were sacked out full. Storks sit so curiously! They look like a chair. Their knees bend the opposite way that ours do, so they’re just chilling out as though at a dinner table, the leg below their knee stretched out in front. They have to hoist themselves up, and do so with surprising speed. How fascinating! I had no idea.

Brian wanted to see the Mara/Talek Confluence before he left, so we had a camp guide walk us down to water level, where he left us to marvel. The flowing Mara curved around in a great loop to the left, and the calmer Talek entered from the right, so that there were three branches that joined around a middle arc of land directly opposite us. A crocodile lay in the shallow water between a group of storks and hippos; in the lazy late-morning everyone seemed to understand no one would cause trouble, including us. Another group of hippos in front of us released great intermittent bellows, and amongst them was the tiniest, most adorable hippo imaginable. A slightly bigger baby followed its mom up onto a dirt island, and they stood there looking at us for a bit before reentering. It was the dictionary definition of picturesque, trees on top of the steep bank and a clear blue-sky backdrop, cool breeze. One of the bush-like trees on our side had a root that extended downward just in front of the bordering sand like a large beet-colored carrot. None of us wanted to leave, and we prolonged the moment as much as possible without overstaying our welcome.

I’ve mentioned boxing giraffes at least twice before, but never experienced it like on the way home. A strikingly dark giraffe and a lighter one of about the same height stood with their butts and inner legs together, balancing by shoving into the other with outer front legs extended. All of a sudden, SCHWOOM! The dark giraffe lam-blasted the upright one’s neck, making a sickeningly loud whack upon contact with its midpoint. The light giraffe returned the blow, and they both got in a couple more whacks before sidestepping to the left, still in position, and taking a breather. I guess they can do some serious damage by way of internal bleeding, and there was only one more round before the light one retreated with the victorious Mohammed behind. Wise choice, Light Spots.

Lia and I found an ancient elephant skull while exploring the Talek river rocks below camp! It was so decrepit that it all but fell apart when we tried to pull it out from behind its bush. I only knew it was an elephant by its enormous lophodont, conveyor-belt teeth. We salvaged two of the giant teeth to take back and show everyone. They are heavy as five-pound weights; the dentary is peeling, but the roots are still in good smooth shape. Crazy awesome.

I drove on night obs, always making for an extra bumpy ride. Tracking is even more fun in the driver’s seat! I felt so proud after following the sound this way and that to nail Samburu’s location. It also started to rain so that I experienced sliding through the Mara mud. It was similar to driving during a Michigan winter. Two brilliant rainbows touched the ground to our right, and the elephants walking through the rain comprised every painter’s dream.


Shy Mama Kelsey got spoiled at dinner; she was the only one who showed up.

21:24, Friday, 5 August, 2011

Wednesday morning, the male hyena Kioto was a dancing king. He was head over heels for Pan, and repeatedly enacted the hyena leg-crossing behavior. Leg-crossing is done before mating for some unknown reason. Kioto would take one leg and put it over the other, then do the same thing on the other side, back and forth and back and forth. Pan was sacked out under a bush and paying the poor guy no attention, probably inwardly rolling her eyes and only tolerating him because she was too tired to aggress beyond a couple of T-1 looks and one lunge. Kioto was clearly nervous, but wouldn’t give up. He went on dancing like a fool for at least half an hour, retreating and returning while busting the moves. It was adorable, and I wish that Pan had fallen for him. As it was, she eventually got up to walk away; Kioto followed her at a safe distance. Once when she looked around behind her, Kioto promptly looked away as though he hadn’t been following her and was merely minding his own business. We left after she turned around and walked back towards the bushes. Kioto was still following close behind, and we can only guess how much longer he pursued.

After Kioto and Pan, we found a lioness and four cubs ambling along. We decided to follow so I could get some GPS’s and better ID photos. Suddenly we saw another lioness up ahead, and watched as the first lioness began to sprint towards her. The new lioness leapt up and they met in the air, biting playfully before coming down and nuzzling one another. People who think cats can’t be sweet don’t know what they’re talking about. The first lioness continued on with the second close behind, and pretty soon she sprinted ahead again, at which time we noticed a third lioness. This lioness also got up to receive her tumultuous greet. The two wrestled and nuzzled before the crew continued onward to arrive at a circle of six cub/subadults eating a freshly killed wildebeest, a fourth lioness laying close by. The cubs’ faces were stained with blood; one’s entire head was covered in red. The lionesses sat off to the side, nuzzling and grooming arriving cubs before they continued along, tripping over their oversized paws to join in the feast. Soon all ten cubs were gorging away. Compared to hyenas, the lions shared their food rather peacefully. When one of the adults decided to eat, she didn’t shove anyone off, but just scooted in so that the others made room. There were still rumbles, bizarre squeals, growls and the occasional roar that caused an individual to get up and change position; the etiquette wasn’t up to Pride and Prejudice standards by any means, but it was pretty darn good considering the environment.

For evening obs we rode out to Fig Tree, driving along the Talek River in a lovely new area with lots of bush scrub before entering longer-grassed savanna. We were at a loss as to where the hyenas were, and eventually got out to stretch and pick up some trash. At that time I satisfied an urge I’ve harbored since the start of the migration. Nobody was around, so I handed my camera and binos to Lia before sprinting after a big herd of wildebeest. I always hoped to run through them, but of course they wouldn’t have it. A group of probably one hundred bolted, the wave of panic spreading quickly from one to the other; I have never felt so powerful. When at last I stopped to catch my breath, a horizontal line of them had formed ahead, every head turned my way. It was so impressive. I booked it at them once more before thanking them and returning to the car, where my smile was reflected on the faces of the others.

We stopped by Fig Tree Lodge to pick up something that Gabe had left for Joseph. While there, some of the meat they leave out for their genet somehow made it into Eli’s pocket and was fed to Kelsey upon return. Boy, did she ever go crazy for it! She now has her own chair at the end of the table where she hops up to sit and groom herself, wandering onto the table when we hold out food. Kelsey washes herself by licking both paws and rubbing them over her face like a rabbit. Her little ears are always twitching and moving this way and that, and her chocolate brown eyes and sniffing pointy nose poking up over the table edge would make anyone melt. Best camp pet imaginable. So on the way to bed, we were walking along, talking and laughing over Kelsey. Nearer to our tent, we grew quiet, and I was reveling in the night and the thought of bed when Lia suddenly screeched and began to run. I was thoroughly confused until she yelled, “ANTS!” I looked down at my feet to discover I was standing in an absolute sea of safari ants. I wish it had registered sooner than it did, because as I began running I could already feel them crawling up my pants. I dashed out of the frenzy and past lines and lines of them before making it under our tent awning, where Lia had jumped up on the desk and was in near hysterics. I hopped up on the chair; they were everywhere and falling out of my shoes. Next thing I knew they were biting me. Lia was yelling, “Open the tent! We have to get in the tent!” I couldn’t help but laugh at our situation amidst the panic, and made myself hop down and unzip the tent between regular exclamations of “Ow, ouch, ow!” with each new bite. Thankfully I had not picked up any warriors. After what seemed an age the zipper was finally undone, and we shot into the tent and whipped off our pants, yowling and dancing. Lia grabbed her shoe and started pounding every ant that wandered out of my discarded pants with great shouts of “Awwwwr!” When we had finally exterminated them and calmed down enough to put our pajamas on, we realized we had no way to go to the bathroom. The ants were all over under our tent and coming out of it. Lia said, “Well, I’m just going to have to hold it.” Then there came a shout from the tent next door, “You can’t hold it forever!” Eli, the comic relief. I couldn’t stop laughing and fell onto my bed; Lia was sort of laughing, but still slightly hysterical. She is brave as can be when it comes to big scary animals, but doesn’t do well with spiders, ants and bees. We knew we had to make a break for the choo, but Lia needed her boots, which were hanging in a tree above the formidable siafu. I took a deep breath and sprinted out the screen to get them, hopping along like a maniac. While she was putting them on, I tucked my pants into my socks like Steve Erkle (sp), said a prayer and jumped atop the desk outside with my water bottle to brush my teeth. While on the desk, Lia shrieked from inside “I HATE BUGS!”; as though the ants weren’t enough, there had been a bee in her boot, leaving a throbbing lump on her right foot. I cornered the bee with a cup and dumped it outside as she recovered enough to stand. Then, on the count of three, we sprinted in form running fashion (if only we had feathered hats and batons to sway at our sides) to the choo. On the return trip, we stopped to rest between ant sections, at which time Eli told us through his window screen that they were chewing on the edges of his canvas in a way that sounded like rain. When he stuck his head out to investigate, they had crawled onto his head and neck and bitten him. We offered him our floor, but he ended up moving to Tracey’s old tent for the night (who went home with Kay). We finally made it back into the safe haven of our tents, and fell asleep chuckling to ourselves. What great adventures!

2:26, Saturday, 6 August, 2011

Come next morning, the safari ants had organized themselves into abundantly neat little lines, so we didn’t have to fret quite so much about unexpectedly stepping into them. I would love to make a study of siafu; they are interesting as all getout. (I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but the Maasai actually use the warriors as stitches. They won’t let go with their jaws, so they twist the bodies off and leave the head to hold cuts together. Super resourceful!)

On obs we witnessed the three cheetah brothers that will be a part of my book eating a kill. The data is compiling like mad. I am so close to being finished with the Serena book; I have discovered one last lioness named Dolly (for Dolly Parton), and I just need to wait for the cord to finish printing pictures. In the meantime, I am compiling all of the information and pictures I will need to make a book for this side, and will be expecting lots of help picking out names when I return home.

We also found three new male lions, which Eli and Brian are trying to get me to name after the Jonas Brothers, but I don’t know; one of them is named Nick, which just doesn’t seem a very lionesque name (sorry Ningle :) ). But we’ll see.

I have to throw in mention of a giraffe that had walked through mud and looked exactly like it was wearing boots. There was also an elephant that got down on its knees to rub its tusks in the mud for some reason (I will have to check with Estes on that behavior). Two of the earth’s best animals right there.

I noticed lots of little colorful birds in camp Thursday afternoon. There was a striking black and white one, smaller than a house sparrow, with a gorgeous red crown. Another had a light brown tail fading into blue and two shades of orange on its belly and head. Yet others are tiny finch-like birds with sky-blue or softly rust red bellies, and some of my favorites are yellowy-green all over.

A lioness stalked a giraffe in the evening hours, obviously not too serious. She crouched and slunk towards it in the grass, stopping every time it turned its head. I was very impressed with how close she got; we had to leave to look for hyenas after a while, but I’m sure she wasn’t silly enough to go for a full-grown giraffe on her own. In the hyena world, Kioto was trying to move on after Pan, now hopelessly following Helios around. Helios ignored him, perhaps aware she was a rebound, and unwittingly led him to a den. The cub Idi actually went over to greet and follow him around, an uncommon show of tolerance (and apparent liking) for a male at the den. Very interestingly, Helios then began what looked like a mass exodus; all five cubs at the den (even those who weren’t her own) traveled beside her a considerable distance. I think she was probably leading them to a new den. I’m intrigued that she would move others’ cubs with her own; my limited experience suggests that hyenas don’t have much to do (outside of greeting and aggressing) with the cubs of other clan members; maybe Kay would say otherwise. And all the while Kioto followed at a safe distance.

Before sunset we found an old abandoned bus on the side of the road, with a “St. Muir Girls’ Secondary School: Strive to Excel” decal across its side. It’s been sitting there, propped up by rocks for a few days now, like something from a zombie movie. We peered curiously inside to find it trashed with hubcaps and tires. Very strange. The next logical thing that comes to mind when finding an abandoned bus with a ladder up its side: why waste the view? We climbed up, and it was of course excellent.

Kelsey let me pet her without running off of the table at dinner. I haven’t been joining in the petting because she clearly doesn’t like it, but I think the problem is that everyone has been too forceful about it. I didn’t push it when she started to move away, and she turned around and came back. She climbed up on Brian’s arm for part of a granola bar, and we tried putting food on my head (laid on the table), and she took that too. Last but not least, she licked frosting from Lia’s granola bars off of our fingers, only testing very gently with her mouth beforehand to make sure it wasn’t food. Her tongue is rough like a cat’s, but long, thin, and disproportionately thick. She is such a sweetheart.

A pair of bushbucks ate right beside our tent when I stepped outside late that night, and a female is quietly picking her way through the woods just now as I sit writing.

Missing my family and friends more with each passing day. Come Wednesday, I am going to be completely torn between sprinting to the plane and grabbing an acacia tree in a way that no one can pry my fingers off.

21:29, Thursday, 4 August, 2011

Post-vultures, we came upon who may have been the M.J. Memorial Lion. He is one of the handsomest lions I have ever seen, not that I’ve met a lion whose stare I wasn’t fixated by. He was breathtakingly close, laying five meters away from our car so that Eli and Lia had their hands at the ready to roll up their windows should the need arise.

We had our Maasai dress on that evening, four whiteys as Benson had gone home (he will return tomorrow). When we stopped to ask a driver if he had been looking at a lion, the blonde lady in the backseat was apparently overcome by curiosity, and opened her window to start asking in a heavy accent if we were really Maasai (at least I think that’s what she said). We were able to avoid answering since she completely disregarded the fact that we were talking with the driver at the moment; the whole thing was really rather rude, but very funny. I laugh when I think of her just all of a sudden opening the window and babbling at no one in particular, desperate to know if we were truly Maasai. And what if we had been?

We saw some decent hyena interactions for the first time in a few days. I had forgotten how much I love watching them. One of my favorite moments of the night was coming upon Xenon and Radon, the brother and sister subadults who are nearly as inseparable as Pene and Ziti according to Brian. They were sacked out together under some bushes. Later at Aardwolf Den or thereabouts, the regular chaos of greets and giggles, squitters and aggressions abounded. I especially enjoyed watching Loki come up and push Gobi over with her nose while he was innocently chewing on a scrap. He squealed and tucked, but refused to move away, even when she started to bite at the scruff of his neck. Maybe he was paralyzed in fear, but she just kept rolling and biting him. In the end, he maintained his hold on the scrap. Good for Gobi!

That night I saw our bushbuck on the way to the choo, and I must say that I cannot blame Lia for freaking out the morning she first saw it. Momentarily I thought it was a lion or buffalo or something much bigger and more dangerous, and was delighted to discover it was only our beautiful bushbuck.

Tuesday morning brought more carnage. Almost thirty hyenas were feasting on a cow kill (ruh rohs, unhappy Maasai in the making). Giggles, squeals, and other vocalizations that together resembled a bunch of chimps going crazy filled the air. Tails stood bristled, and the hyenas were constantly on edge, the higher ranking ones in a clump around the main carcass. The lower rankers slunk around the edges, attempting an approach when they could. The importance of rank is most apparent at a kill. Cubs of high-ranking females chased full-grown adults off of food. The subadult Yellowstone caught the low-ranking adult male Mork (sp) running off with a large scrap, and merely had to catch up to him before he dropped it at his feet. My favorite demonstration of rank came when there were about ten hyenas surrounding the main carcass, and in comes Loki, one of Murphy’s daughters who is second or third in line to the thrown. She just up and picked up the whole thing, walked tripping away with this piece of cow carcass larger than she was, and no one gave her any guff at all! It was amazing; they stood around watching her lay down under some bushes and tear this thing to shreds, unwilling to attempt to regain their meal. Tiny little Zenny was the only one brave enough to come near, and she was rewarded because Loki was too busy eating to care when she started chewing on the edge. Several hyenas were painted in red blood under the lightening sky, and Lia pointed out what a strange chord it struck to see our cute cubs next to so much gore. For me it was like seeing the entire good and bad of a person, and trying to decide what to make of them.

Another surprising occurrence at the kill: an eagle flew in and stole away a sizeable chunk. It flew up into the air with the piece of meat dangling from its mouth, and ate in peace for much longer than one would expect before a hyena chased it off. The vultures that had been so tough at the impala kill, represented by only a couple individuals, kept a safe distance from the excited hyenas. One jackal (jackals are always trying for some crumbs) hung around the edges as well. And when things started to slow down, a topi stotted in, except it didn’t look like a normal stot. It bounded a bit, but then it did a high-step like a champion dressage horse. Had I been riding that topi, I could have won the blue ribbon.

We got out of the car to collect some paste once the hyenas had moved off, and I have to throw in a mention of the area where the kill scene took place. It was on a slanted part of the savanna with bushes in bordering clumps, but something about the way the slant rolled made it feel like we were riding the tilt of the earth. The only way I can think to explain it is that it felt like you would think standing on the earth should feel when looking at a globe, gravity holding you to its rounded surface at an angle. It was bizarre. Lia and I climbed on top of the car and looked around, standing with our arms out in the windy morning aire and then sitting to enjoy the view. Lia mentioned that we only have a week of this left, and suddenly I felt quite sad, and tried to drink in the moment all the more.

As though the morning had not been exciting enough, we found Super Mom and her six cubs on the prowl. This time they were surrounded by the usual million and two combis, but we watched as they disappeared into a clump of bushes, making turns on a dime as they chased one another. Soon it became apparent that one had caught a hare, and was running from its jealous siblings with the thing dangling from its mouth. As the cubs squabbled, Super Mom sat staring at some tommies in the distance. Maybe she was pretending not to notice because she was tired of disciplining them for the day.

We stopped in Talek for some groceries on the way back. I tried to feed a forlorn-looking dog a treat, but he just stared at it. Then I occupied myself by chasing a goat the color of an oreo blizzard away from a neglected pile of potatoes. He got a hold of one but couldn’t chew it, and it bulged between his lips for at least five minutes before he finally got it to go down the tube. Goats really will eat anything; Miss Oreo also started snacking on a pile of charcoal, and was especially happy when a little boy discarded a banana peel at her feet.

I was reminded of how small the world is when we went to Fig Tree Lodge to give a presentation on hyenas. All I knew was that it was going to be given to some group of study abroad students, and that the guy heading the program was the RA from sixteen years ago with the legendary girlfriend that Kay was so fond of. Apparently she got off the plane at the time thinking she had flown over the Andes to get here, and that Nelson Mandela was the president of Kenya. When we got there and met him, he was one of the nicest people ever, and introduced us to his wife (definitely not the former girlfriend, at whose mention he buried his head in his hands) and two very polite kids. I still wasn’t aware of where he was from, and then in walked Elie Durkee among the students! Elie grew up about two miles from me, and went to my high school. I was very taken aback, and we both yelled in surprise and ran to hug one another. Turns out the students were from Michigan State, and Gabe (the former RA) is a professor there. He invited us to eat lunch at the lodge, and we ate dessert for the first time since cheeseburger night in Serena (I think I’ve had dessert a total of about four times this whole trip, and am definitely going for an ice cream cone as soon as I get home). The talk went well, aside from the fact that a few of the students had a post-lunch coma and exhibited a bad case of the jerk-awake head bobs. I felt sorry for them, as I have been in that painful position many times (no comments from the Peanut Gallery, Dad).

Gabe and his family followed us in a combi back to Fisi Camp, because he wanted to see it and reminisce. At first he kept talking of how it was a different camp, and it was only when we went down to the river and he showed us where he used to bathe (the shower is new since his time) that he realized it’s exactly the same. Sixteen years of growth had disguised it from his eyes. The love he had in his voice while talking about his year here told me that he feels about this place how I do. And a very touching moment came when he realized that Joseph still works here. He and Old Joseph had become very good friends during the time he lived here, walking and talking every day, and crying the day he left because they never thought they’d never see one another again. The unexpected reunion had everyone teary-eyed; Gabe had to step aside for a moment because he was all choked up. It must have been surreal to see someone again after so long, and for Joseph to be introduced to the memory of yesterday’s wife and children.

The boys were relegated to the back seat for night obs as they insisted on having a Tusker. Lia drove, and I had the time of my life with the tracking headphones. It was so exciting when I picked up my first beep, and I scared the heck out of Lia by exclaiming in excitement. The radio was picking up Hendrix, and I spotted her shortly after the beep started, producing a strange sense of satisfying pride. Most people don’t like wearing the headphones because most of the time all you hear is static, but to me it was like fishing. You never know when that bobber is going to go down, or when that beep is going to sound, and the anticipation makes it exciting.

We returned to Fig Tree that night on invite, not to mention we had to retrieve Joseph, whom Gabe had stolen to introduce to his students and spend the afternoon with. We were treated to dinner yet again, sitting at our own private table with Gabe and his friend Matino (sp). Matino is one of the neatest people I have ever met; there seem to be so many of them around here. He was Muslim with a medium-length black beard and wearing a maroon turban. He radiated calm energy and joy, and was extremely unassuming. At one point he counseled us on the importance of stopping to breathe throughout the day to avoid life passing you by unawares. He spoke of keeping a diary as imperative to remembering the sights, smells, and sounds of such a wonderful place as this, and that he still remembers walking to Narock with Gabe as being one of the best experiences of his life. Matino said one of the things that stands out most in his memory is the smile of a young woman they met on that trip, because it was the purest smile he has ever seen. I took a lot away from Matino, and I’m so glad to have met him.

Speaking of smiles, one of our waiters had the biggest one I’ve ever seen. It spread across his entire face, making his cheeks into little balls and scrunching his eyes in a triumph of joy. Perhaps I shall never forget his smile, as Matino never forgot the woman’s.

The Maasai warriors danced through the room for us, sending shivers up my spine in a great swoop of culture. The cries in Maa and the deep throaty pulse kept by one of the men resounded throughout the room as they bobbed up and down in a single file line, ending up outside to jump to the night sky one by one in classic Maasai fashion. Gabe’s son looked like Little John joining in the Native American dance on Peter Pan, unexpectedly popping up in line with his arms crossed and then taking his turn jumping. :) Gabe and a guy on the study abroad also took a turn, but couldn’t quite measure up to the Maasai.

I talked in Swahili with Joseph the whole way home. He repeatedly commented on how good Lia’s driving was, and that we would have to send her to Talek to get groceries, which clearly flattered her when I told her. He then told me how he had known Robert Sapolsky, and had worked in the camp since before Kay in the time of Laurence Frank. I asked him which animal is his favorite, and he said he loves them all, because he himself is an animal. It was good to hear a Kenyan say that, since usually Kenyans tend to completely separate their lives from those of the many surrounding animals. I asked if he used to jump like the men at Fig Tree, and he smiled and said yes indeed, but of course he can’t any longer. He has killed three lions with a spear: one to become a warrior, and two to protect his livestock.

Arriving back at camp, we took a giraffe in the driveway to be a tree until we were about two feet from it and it started to move and grow spots. Gosh, I’ll miss all of this in a week.

No ducks flying backwards today!

9:25, Wednesday, 3 August, 2011

I FINALLY SAW A SNAKE!!! We were out on obs watching Blue, Zenny, and Shadowfax, when suddenly we noticed a long black snake, probably a little over a meter in length, slithering quickly away right below our car window. I only got a glimpse of it, but it was enough of a glimpse to know that it was large and almost certainly venomous. I was so happy; it eased the pain of having missed the spitting cobra, and it wasn’t in camp - admittedly a relief. Unfortunately IDing the thing is near impossible with what we saw since there are oodles of black snakes in Africa. Blue jumped up as soon as she saw the snake, which disappeared down one of the Aardwolf Den holes. She moved off a ways and was very wary of the place it had been; Shadowfax followed her, but Zenny had gone out of sight underground. Thankfully she eventually popped out of the hole and joined her family unscathed. Blue’s strong reaction was probably a genetic adaptation, but I would love to know if she had previously had an unfortunate experience with a snake, or maybe learned the avoidance behavior from watching another individual.

On the drive back to camp, Benson very nearly ran over a prickly little hedgehog curled in up in the middle of the road like a misplaced sea urchin. He was distraught, and drove back to make sure it was okay; it had moved off, so we assumed it was. Benson endearingly inched along until he was sure we were no longer in hedgehog territory. Hedgehogs....so wonderful. However, as Lia pointed out, why in the heck in Sonic the Hedgehog a hedgehog? He looks nothing like one, not to mention he’s blue.

Monday morning we saw a few individuals from our lion pride. Brian and Eli have decided that I should keep naming lions after musicians, even though I am on the opposite side of the park. They really want one named “M.J. Memorial Lion,” so naturally, one of the big males is thus named, and they are nerdily excited every time we see him just so they have an excuse to say the name.

Talek was relatively quiet when we went to get groceries after obs; most of the kids must have been in school. However, there were about five little ones that came trailing after Brian as he returned from the butcher’s with a fresh cut of mbuzi (goat). They came smiling up to the window, and when I stuck my hand out, grabbed it and wouldn’t let go. It took about a minute to convince them to finally do so, and during that time I contemplated being strong enough to lift them all up by my hand and bring them in the window to take back to camp. Although, I suppose I would have settled for just the little boy who still wouldn’t let go even after the others had.

It was a gorgeous day the rest of Monday morning and early afternoon, the kind of day that makes you just want to sit outside and soak it all in. Some sort of bush right next to our tent has just begun to flower, and there are butterflies all over the place. They are white and look like cabbage butterflies until you see their undersides, which are yellow, black, and white striped. The fruit bats really enjoy these bushes as well; I witnessed one flapping stationary and eating from a flower like in a David Attenborough film the other night.

Aside from the butterflies and bats, Monday was a pretty quite day in the way of reptiles and mammals around camp. The regular monitor lizard hasn’t been here in a while, nor the baboons. I did see some vervet monkeys when I went running along the fire break; they were scared at first because I was moving so fast, but then seemed quite amused to watch me run to and fro. I haven’t been crossing the river since trying to jump over it after the rains. Definitely landed in the water. Not being able to see the bottom gives me the absolute willies, even if that spot wasn’t very deep. Beyond the median it was even worse, so I had to wade back across up to my thighs in the tennis shoes I had just spent an hour cleaning the day before. Typical.

Monday was also a day of vultures. In the morning there were about thirty of them flying over something as though caught by a tornado, twisting upwards in circles. Then on night obs we came upon an impala kill, and I discovered just how complex vultures are. There were probably around twenty of them, maybe three species represented (one being the lappet-faced vulture). There were also three marabou storks (another scavenging bird) and a jackal, all clearly standoffish towards the aggressive, fighting vultures. One of the vultures would approach the impala with its six foot wingspan held out to the side, turned so that the bottom of the wings were facing forward as though he was just going to bowl everyone over. Then he would walk with slow deliberate steps (probably trying not to fall) towards the impala, attempting to intimidate its conspecifics away from the food (fairly successfully I might add). Lia and I now have a dance intimidating the move; I can’t convey how funny it looked. Other vultures would bite and hiss at one another, snaking around their heads and making a boisterous racket. The wiser ones waited at the edge until the ruder ones were finished. I understand why the jackal was ears-back and nervous to go in to grab a bite; jackals are so little. But marabou storks have to shop at Big and Tall, and have a beak like a sword - strange that they didn’t even really try to intervene. The vultures pecked away at the empty eye socket and other openings in a way that made me slightly nauseous, but I am absolutely intrigued to know they have such complex behavior.

11:51, Sunday, 31 July, 2011

We also saw three more cheetahs that morning, a cohort of males if I’m not mistaken. Then last night we saw all of Talek territory’s lions except for one male, meaning I saw twenty-five cats in one day, the most yet. Unlike upwards of 60% of the people in my field, I don’t believe much in coincidence, and I like to think that yesterday was somehow Minnie’s way of saying goodbye from wherever she is now. I will surely miss her.

There is a second strain of wildebeest passing through, so we get to feel the full effects of the migration at last. They are everywhere. It’s so remarkable. The only place where they weren’t was on the plain with the lions, and who can blame them? I have noticed that there is usually at least one per large group who just seems overjoyed to be a wildebeest, bucking and sprinting all over the place. What odd animals they are, though, with their long beards and tapering rectangle faces with peculiarly placed eyes and curly horns, hairy tails with one little flap of skin at top, Choobacka (sp) grunts and a size much smaller than I originally imagined. Two males were sparring last night, and even that ritual is abnormal. They stand face-to-face, plant those faces in the dirt and then circle one another. I assume horn butting comes later, but we couldn’t stick around to see.

We turned more tourist heads with our Maasai dress, and one lady actually went so far as to snap a picture of us. At dinner Triple B worked up the courage to come grab a noodle dangling from my hand. And, THE SAFARI ANTS ARE GONE FROM THE CHOO! What a relief. There is the most amazing line of them crossing the path, however. The warrior ants have formed a tunnel over the line of walking ants, likely transporting their babies from one place to another. The ants in the dome stand stock-still, holding onto one another like the separate bars of the monkey-domes in playgrounds. Right on our path is the only place where they are structured like so, even though their line extends probably one hundred meters through and beyond camp, thus my hypothesis that the behavior serves a protective function. If you place the tip of a stick in the ants’ path, they are crawling over the entire thing within seconds (it’s good to make sure you have a long stick), and the line will slightly follow your foot as you step over before reforming. The warriors are enormous, and I guess one drew blood when it bit Eli today; you don’t mess with these guys. Incredible little creatures.

We made it out to Prozac today. No hyenas, but we found two really good mothers. One was a lion, who was pouncing on and wrestling with her little male cub, the smallest cub I have seen on this trip. It was just the two of them, and it was excellent to see her play with him like that. The other mother was a plover/lapwing, whose nest was right by the road. She stood over her extraordinarily camouflaged eggs, refusing to move when we slowed down to view her nest even though her countenance screamed terrified. Impressive indeed.

After obs, we gave a tour of camp and a talk on hyenas to a group of students from George Mason who are staying at JK Safari Camp; it was actually a splendid experience, and definitely different being on this side of it. They all seemed very interested in hyenas; I wish Kay could have met them. And Isaac was there! He was one of our drivers on BEAM. He remembered me, and is as full of life as ever, the loudest Kenyan I have ever known (most are very soft-spoken, at least from an American perspective, as we tend to be quite loud).

And now you can expect to see a duck flying backwards, because twice in a row I have written blog posts of almost reasonable length...sort of.

12:34, Saturday, 30 July, 2011

I think one of the big male baboons is finally tolerating my presence, because yesterday he was very aware I was close and watching, but continued to forage, only looking up at me every once in a while. This troop must be getting used to the strange homo sapiens individual who repeatedly sits to watch them.

It was nice to finally return to obs last night. We collectively decided to wear our Maasai clothes to see what kinds of looks we’d get; Benson was obviously the only one who was completely convincing. So here we were, five Maasai in a hyena research vehicle, four of us slightly unconventional. The reactions were hilarious. Benson sped up to catch a combi and ask if they had seen any hyenas, and the two tourists in back couldn’t stop staring, unsure whether to smile or if we were legitimate or what in the heck to think. We kind of spoiled it by cracking up the whole time, but no explanation was given, and we just drove off after thanking the driver for his help. Later, while we were watching hyenas at Horseshoe Lugga (where they have been hanging out in hoards), a tourist standing up out of the hood of a combi did a complete double take. He looked and smiled politely as usual, looked away (at which point our Maasai dress must have registered), and promptly turned his head back to stare, again unsure of the appropriate reaction. Geesh, you’d think they’d never seen a Maasai before.

Female ostriches were dancing last night, literally spinning around and sprinting or ridiculously trotting along. Lia and I laughed until we cried, because they lined up and then went dancing ahead one by one, wings alternately flailing out to the side so it looked like they were going to tumble over, and then ruffling them up backwards in a great show, big tail feathers bouncing like mad. They were totally freaking out, and I can only figure that they were showing off for a male who was foraging in the distance. I would pay to see that again.

Mama B did a boogeyman dance at Kelsey last night, jumping along after her on her hind legs. Poor Kelsey just wanted some of the ugali we were sharing with the babies, but I don’t think Mama B liked her that near to Triple B. According to Estes, genets will sometimes eat bush babies, but I’m slightly skeptical. They sure make Kelsey and her mom nervous.

It’s been like home sweet Serena at night, hippos and buffalo, one night even elephants and lions very near to camp. It’s good to have the noises back.

This morning, we were going to go out to Prozac, and so awoke at 4:45 to hit the road. At Fig Tree, we came upon six lions and some hyenas in the aftermath of a wildebeest kill. The lions soon moved off, two old subadults playing pounce. Then one of the hyenas stole in to carry of the remains of the kill, surprisingly able to lift the entirety of the rib cage and what was left. We lost them to the muddy field, and didn’t even make it to Prozac because we started to severely fishtail back and forth in the mud. But I’m so happy we had to turn around...

I’m not going to write too much about what happened next, although it’s worth a thousand pages, because I’m afraid that trying to describe it might cheapen the memory. Super Mom and her six cheetah cubs were laying and sitting around back in the bush; there were no combis around. I don’t know if I would believe me reading this, but it really happened; three of the cubs came over and jumped onto the car. One of them started to purr, and we stood up out of the windows, staring into the sweetly beautiful reddish-brown, round-pupiled eyes and yellow speckled, furry black tear-dropped faces of the subadult cubs a foot away. And then they let us touch their tails, and I cautiously reached up to scratch one’s flank, and that gentle cat only turned its head to look at me. I cannot endure my love, awe and utter joy. I still think I may have been dreaming, and just stared after them when they moved off after five to ten of the best minutes of my life.

13:06, Friday, 29 July, 2011

Wednesday was Market Day. On the way into Talek, Jackson had to get out and run at a bunch of cattle, tapping them on the butt with an old dead vine because they were blocking the crossing that requires speed to get up the other side. It looks as though you are going to go off the edge of a cliff, a definite hubcap-locker and consequently my favorite crossing.

At the market, we got mobbed from every side by women trying to sell us their jewelry. It is extraordinarily stressful; people literally surround you and shove their bracelets and necklaces in your face, saying “this one, this one.” And then if you see one you like, you have to haggle a price, almost certain to pay too much because your skin color gives away your lack of knowledge concerning worth in a Kenyan economy. Heaven forbid you settle on a price and buy something, because obviously if you can afford one bracelet you have enough money to buy something from everyone. Thank goodness we found Julianna and Lucy, sisters who are old friends of Fisi Camp, and bought the majority of our things from them. Lia, Eli and I got dressed up as Maasai with the whole town looking on. I felt like a legitimate Maasai woman in my flowered shukas, kanga, beaded belt and jewelry, like I actually belonged there, which I loved. Eli aged himself with an mzee blanket and sword. It was so much fun! And I saw Ana; she came up to the car window while Eli and Benson were out getting eggs, along with several other women who had followed the car and were holding their jewelry through the window repeating prices. Ana remembered me, and I gave her the orange cloth headband I was wearing because she touched it in admiration, telling her now she wouldn’t forget me. She was wearing it when we passed her on the way out of town.

Thank goodness Joseph got a haircut, because his hair was getting pretty darn long (also known as it looked like a buzz cut from the states). It was fun teasing him, telling him he was right, he sure needed a haircut! Now he is completely bald. Joseph, Jackson, Benson, and Joseph Mzee made a great fuss over us in our Maasai garb, telling us we looked “very smart.” Jackson said that he would get some husbands for Lia and me, and they would send the money worth the cattle bride price to our parents. Sorry Mom and Dad, but I professed that I could never live as a Maasai woman because of the lack of choice. Thinking back, I really hope I didn’t offend anyone, because it got pretty quiet when I asked “Well what if a girl doesn’t want to marry someone, can she refuse?” Sometimes maybe it would be better to bite my tongue and respect the fact that things are different here. I could not love Maasai culture more for the most part, but I struggle with the fact that I might just as easily have been born a Maasai been married to a forty year old man who already has two wives at the age of twelve, have undergone female circumcision, left school, and have three children whose names I hadn’t picked. Suddenly relativism doesn’t cut it. Much though I hate change, there are some things I would change if I could.

On a brighter note, I got stuck in a downpour while running! It was glorious throwing my arms out to catch the fat drops that were causing dirt from the dry ground to spring up into tiny dust clouds, mountains and savanna all around receiving a well-deserved drink. I slipped in the mud on my way down a little hill, and waved at a biker coming down the path sheepishly while absolutely covered in mud. The children who had yelled at me that they were lions on the way out had ceased their game on the return trip, nowhere to be seen. I literally surfed down the bank, crossing the river as quickly as possible because I would have been helpless to do anything but slide to my doom should a hippo or croc be around (a very rare occurrence in that particular section of the river, Mom and Dad, and I always check very carefully before going down). I reentered camp relieved and exhilarated, where sweet Lia was worried and about to send out a search party. Our shower is currently broken, so I washed up by dipping a pitcher directly into the bucket of river water and pouring it over myself as the rain had currently lulled.

We ended up getting forty millimeters that night within the span of maybe an hour and a half, twenty being the cutoff for not going out on obs at all the entire next day. It was coming down like crazy! We sat cozily in the lab tent drinking chai and playing cards; Eli taught us a new game called “Durack” (sp). It’s got to be one of my favorite card games ever. We had sweet potato soup for dinner, and gathered around Brian’s computer to watch a terrible exhibition of American culture; I don’t even want to know what Benson, Jackson, Joseph, and Lasinko thought of The Big Labosky (sp). What a stupid movie, but I must admit it cracked me up at parts, especially the character Walter. He was pretty great.

By the time we went to bed, the stars were glittering through the acacia branches, the clouds all rained out.

Next morning, we slept in until ten, played some more cards, and did some work (found a new Serena lioness and named her Cranberry for The Cranberries). The rain had brought the safari ants out like crazy, and I sustained my first bites, luckily only two, neither from a warrior. They have infested the choo-most unpleasant. We have to dance our way to the seat, and then hold our feet out in front of us while precariously sitting crooked. It’s not easy, let me tell you. Brian, Eli, Lia and I went for a walk to ease our restlessness around 5:30. It was wonderful out, the ground still freshly wet, everything glinting and wide open. Everyone had boots except for me, and eventually I got sick of sliding around in my sandals and left them under a bush for the return trip. My feet have never been so muddy, which is saying something; it took two thirds of a jerry can to get them clean. We saw some elephants and three hyenas though! No snakes, although it would have been the ideal time to see one, far from camp with three other people to keep you brave.

Everyone was at dinner: Kelsey, Roberta (“Mama Kelsey”), Triple B, Mama B, and a new addition named Chuckles, the boldest of the bushbabies. Kelsey crouched under Lia’s chair, giving off the most endearing little growl at the babies. Triple B climbed the pole right in front of the table, effortlessly holding himself in place to its side while staring at us with enormous eyes. I nearly died: SO CUUUUUTTTTTE! We discovered that bushbabies both sniff very loudly and love spaghetti noodles; at one point Triple B stood on his hind legs with noodles in both hands, unable to eat them fast enough and unsure which fistful to go for first. I coaxed Chuckles (we needed a “ch” name for “creepy hands”) up to grab noodles from me with his adorably weird digits. Before we parted for bed, Kelsey was running around, hissing and playing, jumping on her mom’s back and rolling into the lab tent, chewing on the zippers. She was full of it! She also crunched through a dung beetle that Lia set in front of her; apparently genets like to eat insects.

Before bed I got some news on the phone that has made today very hard; Minerva is missing back home. Her personality is not one in which she should have been gone four days, but I don’t want to give up hope. It really hurts to imagine that I might never see her again, and that Albus is all alone. My little baby girl.

19:42, Thursday, 28 July, 2011

The following morning, the 25^th, we got to see Super Mom and her six cubs take down a tommy. It wasn’t too heart wrenching, because seven cheetahs make short work of anything, most especially something as small as a tommy. Talk about a hunting dream team! Top speed times seven. After the tommy was down, they all lay around with their heads in a circle centered around the food. It was annihilated in about five minutes. Super amazing.

Back at camp there was a pygmy kingfisher on the clothesline. They are such beautiful birds, a multitude of colors: oranges, purples, greens all crammed into a bird smaller than a robin, with a lovely slender, long orange beak to match. There was also a very impressively thick line of safari ants by the kitchen tent. It snaked along like a river, and far away looked like a squiggly track of red dirt, while close up safari ants scrambled every which-way, running right over the top of one another. I have never seen anything like them. And banded mongooses wandered into camp just before we left to get water at Keekorok Lodge. They are so much bigger than I thought, having only seen them from the car. The troop was comprised of at least ten individuals, all quite bold, paying us no mind while hastily perusing in the dirt for insects.

At Keekorok, we got to talk with Janie and Adrianna for a while since we were giving the other camp one of our vehicles. The four of us had a good story exchange. A few days prior, they had had a spitting cobra under their tent, the very tent that we had stayed in. Apparently Janie was writing alone in her bed, and saw its hooded form move beneath the canvas. Zach wouldn’t let the staff kill it, but instead of merely chasing it away, apparently tried to wrestle it from under the canvas into a pillowcase. Bad idea; he got spit at, the venom narrowly missing his face. The cobra shot away off into the woods; the girls said they had no idea a snake could move so fast. I tried not to be jealous that they got to see a cobra, and realized that I probably wouldn’t sleep as well at night with the knowledge that cobras tend to dwell beneath the floor. They also told us that the river is absolutely rank with the smell of thousands of wildebeest carcasses right now; Amanda and Chris did a census and counted THREE THOUSAND carcasses in THREE KILOMETERS. Geesh, those crocodiles didn’t need to waste their energy after all of those drownings. I think swimming lessons should be mandatory for wildebeest before the big crossing, poor guys.

Back in camp, baboons, vervets, and slender mongooses abounded. Two baboons were mating right next to the stone path, their cohorts foraging and screaming at one another about them. The female in estrus’s butt was extremely swollen, just like Jane Goodall always said of her female chimps in estrus. The vervets were all over in the lab tent, running and jumping and peeking around branches as I approached (previously they had knocked over and eaten through our breakfast bucket that was sitting on the table). They about gave me a heart attack when they jumped on top of the tent; it makes a sound like the entire thing is about to collapse inward. One adult monkey couldn’t decide if it should return to the kitchen tent while I was sitting there eating lunch. It would walk up, stand on its hind legs to investigate, bobbing as it crouched and stood, crouched and stood. Another jumped down right behind a slender mongoose on the leaves, sending it scurrying away into the bush, probably just for fun. I thoroughly enjoy the vervets, even if they do steal our food and pick on the slender mongooses. It’s new having so much contact with primates, such a different experience because of their intelligence. Interacting with them is more like dealing with a primitive version of you than with mammals of other orders, ones whose behavior is more foreign and less instinctually understandable.

That night we were all cursing Dave quietly under our breath as we undertook the near impossible task of counting shoats and cattle for his dissertation project (not really Dave; we love you! :) ). Eventually we got smart and just asked the herder, since the constant motion of the herds made an accurate count highly unlikely, and averaging numbers with a range of 100+ doesn’t exactly scream scientific. Later at the den, the hyenas were interacting with giraffes. First the adult giraffes crossed the road, with some younger giraffes straggling behind on the side of the den. The cubs chased the younger giraffes, obviously not serious and keeping a safe distance should they notice. Pretty soon the tables turned, and the adult giraffes began to run at the cubs, who bolted away. It was a blast to watch. I had been driving for a little bit of practice, and carefully inched slightly into the bushes so that we could get a better view of the action at the actual den. While we were sitting there watching the hyenas, a sudden ruckus erupted to our left. Benson said there was an elephant, and we all chuckled and waved it off because we knew he was joking around, surely it was only hyenas being their socially interactive selves. But a couple of seconds later, he shouted (as much as Benson ever shouts), “Elephant! Let’s go!” Um, terrified. I am not comfortable enough with driving a stick shift to try and evade a disturbed giant. Brian and I quickly shot out of the car and switched spots, and he speedily reversed us to safety. The elephant had been about twenty feet from our car; Benson had gotten a glimpse of an enormous foot right next to us. It remained perfectly peaceful, munching away. We had nothing to worry about, but that could have changed at any second in such close proximity.

An interesting tidbit on culture: while driving between destinations, we asked Benson why some of the Maasai pull their lower middle incisor out. It had come up in dinner conversation the previous evening, and we had developed a theory that it’s to help the herders whistle (loud whistling traverses the savanna at night as the Maasai men, who stay out all night long, whistle to keep the cattle moving). But Benson said that has nothing to do with the custom, and explained that there are three things Maasai men traditionally do when coming of age to display their tribe: 1) extensively gauge their ears, 2) pull their lower middle incisor (ouch!), and 3) burn themselves to leave scars. Some of the more modern Maasai like Benson and Jackson haven’t done most of these things, though. Benson only has the burn marks, scars that cover his arms. He explained that it’s a sign of bravery to burn yourself more than you friends, and he tried to prove his bravery when he was about twelve or thirteen years old, leaving the many scars.

Tuesday morning we saw Obama. He was looking quite hyenaish. (President’s lineage; turns out Obama is actually a female, quite fitting since male suffrage has not yet hit hyaenidae.) I started humming “Hail to the Chief” while Lia and I saluted. It’s now a tradition every time we see Obama to hum and salute, just like when Dad used to hum the tune, stand and salute when Joe would come stumbling downstairs in the morning with his eyes barely open. Pretty soon we found our sixteen lions. One of the cubs was trying to play with Dad, play-walking up behind (walking wider than normal, paws swinging unnecessarily out to the sides) and tumbling over his big mane. Dad wasn’t feeling it this morning, and just looked at the cub, who lay down in front of him in the exact same position, facing forward with tail flipping.

For fun, we now play “nose goes” and rock, paper, scissors to see who has to get out and collect poop. I don’t think it really bothers any of us that much to do it, but the added competition makes it more exciting, and when someone has diarrhea it really pays off to be quick.

Tuesday evening at dinner Kelsey came up onto the table! Lia has some granola bars that have spoiled Kelsey’s taste for anything else, and she hopped up onto the table, walking timidly from one to the other for food (Mom’s nightmare). The bush babies, now regulars, showed up for their scraps as well. One of the guys offhandedly suggested I use the big spoon to catapult rice over to them, since I already “triple the food bill every night” by feeding everyone (gross exaggeration). I was doubtful it would work at all, and so I put all of my force behind it, only to find out how powerful a spoon catapult can be. Poor Triple B got nailed with rice square in the face; I tried to feel awful, but we were all doubled over laughing as it just stood there blinking and moving its head from side to side, still apparently processing what had just happened, rice sticking to its fur. Eventually it began to nonchalantly eat the surrounding tidbits, then sprung back off into the darkness.