13:10, Saturday, 23 July, 2011

I don’t think I could ever get tired of going out to watch the hyenas morning and night, being a part of their day-to-day lives. Perhaps unfortunately for the reader, their culture continually amazes me, the fact that they have a society all their own, with social norms and a language. It is so different from anything I’ve ever seen; does every species live such a complex yet hidden life? It makes one realize how truly anthropocentric the world is.

For example, consider how radically different the hyena greet is from our handshake. It centers around the phallus-oh dear. But it isn’t like it’s anything personal; it’s so weird, because I would be mortified to talk about such a thing normally, but the hyenas have made it so it’s not such an embarrassing thing (well, almost). It’s polite in their world to say hello by lifting a leg so the other can sniff their phallus, and sometimes they even groom that of their greeter. But who knows, maybe paws are something they’d cover if they had clothes, and would never dream of shaking hands. I love it when cubs lift leg, because they can barely balance while trying to get it high enough for the adults to reach their noses down and sniff.

One of my favorite behaviors is the squitter. Cubs squitter when their mother stops nursing them while they are still hungry. I think Mom would agree that I would have squittered endlessly as a hyena cub. It is the most pathetically adorable (although Kay finds it very annoying) “Eeeeeeeeeeeee!”, with the corners of the mouth raised high. The other day Gucci (fashion lineage) was ignoring her cub Pene’s (Italian foods) squitters, so he deliberately stepped in front of her so she couldn’t move away. After almost tripping over him, she still refused him food, and walked away so that he followed right at her tail making the most obnoxious little fuss. No wonder he and Ziti have yet to be weaned, although long graduated from the den. Lia and I have been practicing our African animal vocalizations, most especially the squitter, although another of our favorites is that of bird that very loudly goes “AWWWWWWWR!” in the bush beside our tent. Everyone must think we are insane.

The best thing is how the hyenas never fail to make us laugh. I think I will add a bit here on their very diverse personalities. Twister is the tiniest cub, but is bolder than any of the others. He is absolutely hilarious! Loki, the adult female who is known to be a bully, neglecting to warn others of her cranky stages with a T-1 (T=threat) aggressive look, speeding through T-2 lunges right into T-3 biting her unsuspecting victim, was nursing her cubs yesterday. Twister decided it would be all right to just up and climb on her, no big deal. His pudgy adorableness didn’t stop her from lunging, but lucky for Twister she couldn’t bend far enough to bite him over her nursing cubs. Twister also has the most energy, constantly running all over the place, tripping over the other cubs and periodically sitting back to investigate us with his front legs placed just on the outside of his little belly. Then there’s Zenny, who is my favorite cub because she is sweet and I can always identify her. I slipped her a dog treat last night when no one was looking (shhhhhh); she often peers around the end of the car with her ears forward looking for one, apparently remembering the rare occasions when treating is absolutely necessary. Then there’s Magenta, the subadult who is always stirring up trouble, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. I swear she walks over and steps in the middle of things on purpose, doubtless an adrenaline junkie as she places herself right in the path of sure aggression. Oakland is the only adult male I can immediately recognize; he has a big snare scar on his neck and always seems to be doing fly-bys, which are when a male walks or runs by the den, hoping to be noticed- quite funny, really (although maybe Oakland’s antics couldn’t be classified as such, because he tends to just amble by when females are out and about, not necessarily by the den-males are forbidden to go by dens, hence the need for fly-bys). Last night he decided to add some extra spice by whooping, and his is the absolute weirdest whoop any of us had ever heard; I think the snare must have damaged his larynx. L He sounds like a baritone bullfrog on steroids. And last but not least, I will mention Alice, because she deserves to be mentioned. The boys like to get me riled up by calling her fat and ugly, not worth tracking, so that I yell out the window “Don’t listen to them Alice, I love you!” Besides, in the hyena world it is attractive to be fat. Weight signifies an ability to obtain adequate nutrition.

22:06

It’s not only hyenas I could never tire of. I love seeing elephants every day; we have taken to calling them “effluents,” and today we saw a group of about twenty that was so clustered that their legs looked like a centipede’s, so we dubbed the entire body of elephants an “efflupede.” I love seeing giraffes everyday; they never cease to be incredible. There is a group around that has three little (as far as giraffes go) babies, all almost exactly the same size, and they run around playing together, and I saw one nursing today. And how cool is it to watch cheetahs chasing each other? I witnessed the world’s fastest game of tag the other day as two of Super Mom’s cubs tore about the savanna after one another, like something off of Nat Geo Wild (minus the 38 surrounding combis…geez a lou). I’ll never tire of coming upon whole prides of lions; they cannot lose their majesty. We came upon the biggest pride I have seen out here yet a couple of nights ago, and not only was there a plethora of females and two big males, but there were cubs!!! I think some serious infanticide had just occurred on the Serena side, eradicating any cubs L. So I was happy to see some baby lions! One of the cubs had ears like Dumbo, way too big for its head, and I wanted to pick him up and cuddle him like Albus and Minerva. Let’s not forget the small creatures, such as the hedgehog we observed scuttling away from the first raindrops we had seen in days; Benson turned the car so that we could watch it in our headlights, a prickly little pincushion confused as to which way it should go; back and forth and back and forth in little zig-zags it went until finally happening upon some bushes. And tonight we saw some springhares, or “boing-boings” as Brian would say. They are so much bigger than I remember them, jumping around like overgrown kangaroo rats with black tail tips, just a blast to watch. We saw four in a row, two of them a pair, and one of the pair stood by its partner before leaping up in the air like Rudolph after Clarice tells him he’s cute, almost twisting over backwards before regaining his balance. I could never tire of looking over while eating lunch to see a slender mongoose with a long sweeping tail and red eyes looking up at me, or of feeding Kelsey and Roberta at dinner. Directly after I wrote how I was worried about Kelsey last time, I took a trip to the choo and caught sight of her (midday no less) in the bushes. And two nights ago I stayed in the lab tent after everyone had gone to bed, trying to coax Roberta in with some grilled cheese. While patiently waiting, I saw Kelsey walk up to her mother and start licking her face. I didn’t end up getting Roberta to come any closer, but Kelsey made me the happiest girl in the world by crawling right up into my lap to retrieve some more leftovers- can you believe it?! I almost touched Arthur the vervet’s tail on Thursday as he hung above me in the trees over the camp path, and I can’t get over the brilliant mass of endless birds singing their hearts out, color and chorus surrounding me as I do yoga in front of our tent. I love that there is always something more to see, like tree hyraxes, bushbuck, and monitor lizards. I spotted a hyrax crawling towards the crotch of a tree while watching vervets with Old Joseph. It’s nice to know that they are in camp, and holy wow did one ever screech like a madman last night! Lia came sprinting up the path yelling this morning because several pairs of eyes were coming towards her on the way to the choo. I sure feel safe, because you should have seen the Maasai sprint to aide her the second she yelled! We all rushed to the scene; I was so excited to see some sort of big carnivore, but it was just the handsome, harmless bushbuck that has recently set up lodge in camp. They rival the hartebeest and topi as my favorite antelope, so shy and sweet and gorgeous. And yesterday I heard a new type of noise outside of the choo tarp, a constant sound along leaves that surely wasn’t a bird or mammal. How thrilling: I was finally going to get to see my venomous snake! Very cautiously, I peered around the edge of the tarp, and a great green monitor lizard at least three feet in length had the crap scared out of it and rustled quickly away. Golly, they are neat! I quietly walked to the other side to glimpse it again, and you have never seen such a skittish creature; it whooshed bow-leggedly away. I have no idea how such awkwardly placed legs can move so fast. I love having to step over thick lines of bustling safari ants running every which-way in ordered chaos, the mere potential of coming upon a mamba or a crocodile. I love jogging past herds of impala and baboon troops. Yesterday I came upon an absolutely enormous baboon right in the camp path. When I got back to the tent, Lia’s eyes were huge. That very baboon had just crashed into Julia’s tent, blowing right through it so that ours was literally shaking and she momentarily had no idea what was going on, half sure she was about to meet her death. Poor Lia had had her day of heart attacks, from the bushbuck to the baboon to a bird that made her jump a mile into the sky when it randomly flew smack-dab into her tent window screen with a great thud (it flew off just fine). Finally, I have to give a shout-out to little Roger, the toad that hangs out around our tent much like the one in Serena did.

So surreally wonderful, that’s what it is to be here.

10:26, Sunday, 24 July, 2011

Believe it or not, it isn’t only the animals that I could never tire of; the people here are fantastic as well. Their culture is as radically different from that in America as it could possibly be, and yet fundamentally people are the same. Families are the same; young Joseph’s brother came to visit the other day, and the smile that Joseph had on his face as he reached out to pick up his niece was very familiar to me. Benson’s cousins visited yesterday, and I got to meet all of the guys’ wives when they graciously came to do our laundry, pointing at myself to say my name and wordlessly asking that they do the same. One was named Mary (if I understood correctly), one Marion, and one Liz. I have sat on the stones by the kitchen tent to practice my Swahili with both Old and Young Joseph. Talking with them is one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had; they’re such exquisitely nice individuals from whom I can learn so much. Jackson grabbed my elbow the other day in the dark, intending to scare me, laughing as he claimed it was a hyena. Lasinko, our burly and tall askari, walks us to our tent at night, barking “Lala salama” (sleep well) as he shines his light right up to our door (he gets very upset if we wander too far in the dark on our own). I love the children that I have to yell “Sopa!” (hello in Maa) to a million times while running, the herders I pass who look at me like I’m mad for running without a purpose. (As I ran by one guy, he pointedly asked me with raised brows, “Unakimbia?”, which means “Are you running?” Why, yes, whatever gave you that idea?) Before crossing the river one day, I smiled and waved at a woman walking by, and she stopped me. I thought she wanted to ask me something, but she just held out her hand and smiled so warmly when I took it, saying her name as I said mine. And there is an old man who passes through camp periodically, traditional Maasai in every way. The first time I saw him he was sitting by the kitchen tent, and when I walked over he grabbed my hand with the biggest smile I think I have ever seen on anyone’s face, shifting my hand firmly into three of the brother handshake positions. Although we didn’t say a word, I have never in my life felt like someone was so purely happy to meet me, and I will never forget him for as long as I live. And I can’t neglect to mention Suzanna, the elderly crouched over woman with one eye who greets us at the Talek gate with the bracelets and kangas she has made, hoping to sell them; she barely stands tall enough to reach the cruiser window. Suzanna does not act put out like some of the others if you tell her you haven’t any money on you right now, emphatically bidding you have a good day. She inspires in me a lesson that doesn’t come natural to me; people like Suzanna do not need, much less want, my pity. My brother Joe once explained to me, much more eloquently than I can, that pity for pity’s sake has a diminishing effect on dignity. It’s an amazing realization. People like Suzanna are perfectly capable; pity is of no use to them. It means everything to me to be able to talk to Suzanna eye-to-eye like anyone else, regardless of her feeble appearance, feeling my pity release and be replaced by respect. I hope that makes sense in the way I intend.

And of course, I have an especial love for hanging out with my fellow yahoo scientists, nerdy as I am in every way. It is a wild search for truth, complete with some of the most bizarre activities. Just the other day I was introduced to the collection of hyena paste, the anal secretion left on blades of grass. It’s morning, we see a hyena paste, what follows? We all get out and started bending over to sniff the full length individual stalks in the middle of the savanna, searching for a faintly musky scent. What a riot; it felt like a very twisted Easter egg hunt, and I wouldn’t trade participating in such silly endeavors for the world. And sometimes the people I work with remind of my dad’s side up at deer camp on Beaver Island. There is a landmark named “Pee in the Pond,” where a track crosses between two sides of a water hole. None of us know exactly why it was named that, but Eli decided while we were very near it that he had to take a pee break. Naturally, he insisted on peeing in the pond, hoping to make it feel up to its name. So we pull up onto the slightly elevated landmass crossing, and he gets out. Pretty soon combis are coming from both directions, and we in the car can only laugh at his predicament, imagining what the approaching tourists must be thinking as he is stranded relieving his bladder for all the world to see. He hopped back into the car, completely unphased, disappointed only because the wind had foiled his plan of actually hitting the waterhole. Oh Lord. Further, having Benson in the car makes us all particularly joyful. He has the best laugh, and such a great sense of calm humor; everyone just loves him. When he sees a hyena and can correctly identify it, he yells out excitedly “I know you!” When we go over an exceptionally large bump and flop around like jello, he exclaims “Nice dance!” He always seems to randomly know people even though he is from Narock, and when we are driving around in the middle of nowhere, will shout hello to a passing herder. In the aftermath he will say, in a matter-of-fact and satisfied tone of voice, “I know that guy.” His English is flawless, and there are very few people I have grown so fond of so fast. You would have to meet him to know.

12:20

However, there is one thing I tire of, and that is being half a world away from the people I love the most. (At least I have the knowledge that Caitlin is a little closer.) Not a moment goes by that I don’t wish Mom, Dad, and most especially Joe were here to experience things with me. I miss the fun of Grandma Signs, the sweetness of Grandma Parker, and goodness knows I hardly know what to do without Grandpa teasing me. Every time I feed Kelsey I want for Charlie (the Mr. “Star Beam Student” I keep hearing about) to be there with me, like when we fed the campus squirrels. I miss Lindsey when I get excited over little things, Ania when I think too much, Jacci when I don’t think enough, Ellen when I’m sitting around working by myself, Nic when I jump around in ecstasy like a kangaroo because of something awesome I’ve just seen, Nate’s sarcasm when someone does something stupid, Anu’s laugh, Mallory’s extensive sense of humor, Kristen’s ridiculousness, Margaret’s calm, Climan’s brain when the data is overwhelming, Meghan when someone cracks a joke over my naive head, Natalie when the cattle wander into camp. I miss Caitlin all the freakin’ time, and I hope that A.J. isn’t sitting at the Wheel Inn all alone late into the night. Kenya is not the same without every last one of my BEAM girls (you know who you are), and my plethora of cousins, aunts, and uncles are always coming to mind, most especially those like Jacob, Nicol, and Tee who I know would absolutely love to be out here. Molly and Alison, I feel like you two might not fare so well without the warm shower. Whether or not there is a mention of your name, I assure you I have thought of you all at different points during the days, weeks, month, and I miss you like crazy. And of course there’s Willie and Mr. Midnight Scandal; the zebras are constant reminders of them. I cannot wait to hug them again, and squeeze Albus and Minerva when I get home. Thoughts of corn on the cob, lemonade, and riding my bike with Dad to Scoopy Doos tantalize me. It’s hard not being around to watch "Frasier" and "Everybody Loves Raymond" with Mom. While reveling in the extraordinary wildlife here, I miss the tree frogs, garter snakes, robins, bluebirds, and whitetail deer just the same. Up north, Douglas Lake and Beaver Island, Maple and Oak trees, swimming, fishing, all that is summer at home. And for goodness sakes, I cannot wait to see Harry Potter! I write all of this to assure you, Mom, that you have not completely lost me to Africa. It still rings true that there is no place like home, and that is why I could never stay here indefinitely. Just the same, I hope that somewhere like here might one day become my second home.