21:02, Monday, 6 August, 2012

The 29^th brought a classic evening in carnivore research: car problems.  Charlie, Ian and I got a flat while in Fig Tree.  This took about an hour to carefully fix.  A nice tourist and his Israeli passenger stopped to make sure we were okay, and insisted we follow them to the main road.  Grateful but feeling bad to keep them waiting, we quickly went to start the car: dead battery (although we had only left our lights on for about five minutes minus the engine!).  So these poor fellows had to hang around and jumpstart our vehicle.  After considerable effort, this worked, and we puttered along after them.  Once they were gone down the main road, we ran into the male named Frisco and became very excited (I have only seen him once!), only to have our maglights die as he, Helios, and some others ran into a group of panicking zebra.  Put out because we were probably missing a hunt, we continued on.  In hindsight, those dead maglights were a Godsend; no sooner had we made it to Cheetah Tree Crossing than we looked down to find a flat spare.  Working maglights might have equated to a flat in the middle of hungry hyenas, forcing us to succumb to a sleepover in the cramped hilux.  As it was, we waited in the moonlight for Michelle and Wilson to come pick our tire up for repairs, getting through several “would you rather” questions in deja vu of the night Ian, Tyler, and I were stuck without a phone.  They came, and Michelle, Wilson and I drove to Talek where our ever-faithful Maina rescued us.  Exhausted, we returned with the fixed tire.  Propped rocks behind the wheels.  Put the jack under the car.  Jack starts to lean – good thing we have two!  Quickly crank up the other jack.  That jack decides to lean too.  Stop and think so we don’t get killed.  Think some more.  The rangers have lately blocked off restricted paths with big rocks!  Go collect piles of super heavy rocks.  Try not to throw up as I am still rather ill.  Prop the car up sturdily on rocks before messing with the jacks again.  Michelle walks off to try not to throw up as she is starting to feel ill.  Keep a lookout for wildlife as we take turns assessing in the prone position.  Take the jack out and reposition it.  Start to crank it up, it goes through a hole in the metal part we're using.  Try to lower it to reposition it, it won’t lower.  Finally get it to lower.  Prop it on a flat solid rock so it can reach a more promising place.  Hallelujah, change the tire.  Replace the rocks...minus a couple we kept just in case.  Drive back very slowly while watching the tire.  Return back to camp at 12:30 am.  It always feels splendid after such events to know you didn’t lose your head, and together figured things out step by step until they worked.  I slept well that night!

On the 30^th we gave a talk for MSU Professor Gabe Ording’s study abroad class.  Gabe was an RA here way back when the RAs bathed in the river, saw leopards every other day and recorded notes on legendary clan-founders like Cochise and 2-3-S.  His class was super interested in the hyenas and our work, so after the talk we brought them back to camp for a tour.  Gabe (so generous) bought all seven of us lunch and dinner following obs at the lodge (horrible day to still be feeling somewhat sick...all that food!), and told us stories of how camp used to be in his glory days.  He boasts of never having gotten stuck in a vehicle, which I find near impossible to believe.  You haven’t worked in the Mara unless you’ve gotten stuck!  Prime example further below.

August 1^st came, and with it a disbelief at that human construct of time, arbitrary past how it lives and breathes its way through biology.  If seasons didn’t change, we didn’t grow and die, perhaps August never would have been construed.  But it was, and here it is.  Listening to Alexi Murdoch as I transcribed in my tent, I looked out my window screen to see two vervet monkeys sitting on a branch, grooming a baby the size of my hand.  Something about this struck a chord (I think it was partially the melancholy music in the background), and I started to cry.  It was just so beautiful, watching those monkeys groom that baby, pieces of humanity’s beauty hidden outside of a human in a thicket where no one today would think to look.  And I was witnessing it.

That afternoon Joseph came looking for us.  There was a young man, probably 17 or so, who had fallen on a steep rock.  I couldn’t believe the way his knee was gushing blood.  His friends supported him, and as he threatened to faint I fought the faintness I felt long enough to grab the first aide kit and douse his knee with antibacterial powder before roughly wrapping it, trying not to think what I was doing and thanking God I’m not in med school.  We rushed him into the car, bleeding all over the floor mat, eyes glossing over in pain, and I drove him and his two friends as quickly as possible to the clinic.  I tired to make conversation and distract him as we flew down the road.  Thankfully, we made it to the clinic without him fainting.  The doctors fixed him up incredibly fast, and I drove him home, giving about ten others rides along the way in the spitting rain.  His mother was horribly upset when he limped into his mud home; she loudly exclaimed her worry in Maa as she threw her hands in the air.

The two friends stayed in the car to help me return to camp.  They took me to Dick Hedges Crossing.  I recognized the crossing from last summer when we had used it, but I didn’t know it was Dick Hedges Crossing, the crossing Michelle had told me at the beginning of my training never to use because no one uses it anymore.  The boys seemed to think I should cross, and it didn’t look bad, so I tried.  Sand = tricky.  Sand = stuck for three hours, with half of Talek (not a soul of whom you know) attempting to get you unstuck.  Sand = gathering rocks and branches and calling Ris the balloon pilot to come help you get unstuck.  Sand = practically going swimming wading back and forth through the river as you strategize.  Sand = clothes covered in mud. Sand = almost crying with relief when that car is finally unstuck.  And sand = returning home with many new friends, a good story for the old friends, and a promise never to go through Dick Hedges Crossing again.

After I changed into less muddy clothes, we all (Nora, Michelle, Charlie, Ian, Tyler, Julie, and I) cozied onto Michelle’s bed to watch The Holiday on her laptop.  A perfect end to a perfect adventure, and another night of sleeping well.

My computer is about to die, the hyenas are whooping, the sun is down and it’s time for sleep.  Will finish catching up soon.