Masai Mara

Every year in February, our girls have two weeks of school vacation at the French school. When I was working in Switzerland, it was the same. Given Switzerland’s proximity to France, and possibly also due to the fact that western Switzerland is French-speaking and influenced by French culture, there was almost more in common with France than the majority German-speaking population in the country.

Back then it was called “vacances blanches” or “white vacation”. Rather than have some sort of racial implication (wouldn’t surprise me if it was called something else now), it was a reference to the fact that it was mid-winter. For much of the affluent country, it meant heading to the alps for a ski holiday. For our kids, skiing is out of the question. While Kenya offers a wonderful array of activities for people on vacation, skiing isn’t one of them.

Given my work demands, I can’t afford to take much time off. So we basically needed to do something over a long weekend. We considered a few different options including camping, hiking, safari and going to the beach. In the end, safari won. I think all four of us felt the desire to be back out on a game drive, roaming about the Kenyan countryside taking in the animals and landscape.

For me, the experience of being on safari is rivaled only by time in the mountains. It’s not for everyone. I’m aware that there are people who tire quickly of the bumpy roads, the dust, chilly mornings, hot afternoons, infrequent toilet access, stretches where you’re not seeing animals, or not seeing the animals you want to see, etc. In all honesty, I rarely think of those things. I tend to get so captivated by what I’m seeing around me that the time flies by. The game drive usually comes to an end before I’m ever weary of it.

The safari vehicle came to pick us up early on Friday morning. We would drive the five or so hours to the Masai Mara. The plan was to enter the national park and do a mini game drive as we made our way to the tented camp where we would stay.

The Mara is not new to us. The first time we went was while we were still living in Bujumbura. Burundi, having long since eaten 99% of it’s wildlife (and cursed with a high population density on a deforested piece of land about the size of the US state of Maryland), has no game parks. After years of being spoiled while we were living in Tanzania, and not knowing at the time that we would ever live in Kenya, we were anxious to return to this beloved pastime. It was the first time we had gone since we had children. It certainly changes the experience. Even though we had brought plenty of children’s books and other distractions, I was pleasantly surprised to see how much they were into it, finding and identifying animals, etc. They love it even more now.

* * *

Masai gathered at the gate

As we entered the Mara, we quickly began to see zebras, gazelles, impalas, baboons and warthogs. We saw a few wildebeest but they were few in number. Most people are aware of the Great Migration – the greatest wildlife “traveling roadshow” on earth. It’s known as one of the seven wonders of the modern world. Each year, over two million wildebeest, zebra and some topi, elands and gazelles, migrate from the southern Serengeti in northeastern Tanzania to the lush green grasses of the Masai Mara (in fact the Serengeti and the Mara are the same piece of savanna with a country border bisecting it). Essentially, they are following the rains and the resulting food supply. They make an 800,000 kilometer (500,000 mile) clockwise trek from Tanzania, to Kenya and back. Tourists flock to the Mara to see the famous crossing of the Mara River (as we did during the pandemic in 2020), replete with hungry crocodiles who also enjoy this phenomenon every year.

waterbuck

As such, many of the animals mentioned above are currently in the Serengeti this time of year. But with Kenya’s rains (theoretically) coming soon, the animals, starting in July and winding down in October, will head northeast and the Mara animal population becomes denser.

Kinaya tracking the giraffe

But there is no shortage of wildlife in the Mara at any time of year. It’s really a magical place. It was a treat to be back, smell the air, and enjoy the African savanna.

* * *

ok, I didn't take this one; the tented camp from above; we stayed in one on the left side

We arrived at camp early afternoon. We had time to quickly check in and have a bite to eat. It’s located on the Mara River near hippo pools. From the edge of the camp you could look down and seek all kinds of wildlife, including loads of hippos, a few crocodiles, birds, etc. It was our first time to this particular tented camp and we were duly impressed.

nice perk when on safari

After lunch we went to our “tent”, dropped off our bags and I quickly changed and headed to the pool. In fact we had a relatively short turnaround before we would have tea (3:30pm) and then back in the safari vehicle for the early evening game drive (4pm). So I was keen to take a dip after being in the safari vehicle most of the day. The rest of the family wasn’t interested, likely given the limited amount of time, but it ended up being well worth it. The water was clean, a bit cool but near perfect for what I was wanting. It’s quite the treat when you’re on safari to have a nice pool, I have to say – a good complement to the game drives.

Soon we had our tea and biscuits (cookies) and headed out on the evening game drive.

Mostly sunny but some dark clouds on the horizon. Not yet rainy season. Saw some lions but soon became preoccupied with what looked to be an impending storm. Never been rained out before. Though many animals are still out in the rain, many seek the shelter of trees. The open top of the vehicle is down. We thought it might pass but soon realized we were done.

the storm that would eventually be upon us

We returned to the wet camp, showered and made our way to the main area. We each ordered a drink and walked down to the edge of the camp overlooking the river. It was dark and the moon was out. Fireflies were zigzagging nearby, outside the lights of the camp. Though not visible in the dark, you could hear the hippos grunting, snorting and occasionally splashing water just below.

damp impalas

The night was quiet except for the sound of crickets and the occasional yelp of hyenas off in the distance. The were a few lion groans quite a ways away. I tried to stay awake to listen but eventually succumbed to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, we were up at 5:45am. We had a quick coffee/hot chocolate and headed out by 6:30. There are different ways of organizing a safari trip. One sort of standard way is to do an early morning game drive, return by about 8:30 for breakfast, chill at the camp and then do an evening game drive before dinner. That’s generally what we do. Another option is to have breakfast, leave a bit later, take boxes lunches and then stay out all day. While the latter allows you to go longer distances, it can get a bit long, particularly if you have children. Also, more interesting lighting and animal activity happens at the bookends of the day. Animals tend laze around in the heat of the day so that’s what we do.

Masai Mara sunrise

We were blessed with a beautiful sunrise as we hit the open road. There were five or so hot air balloons on the horizon. It would be fun to do someday (quite expensive) but a memorable experience. 

hot air balloons above the savanna

* * *

Fairly soon we came upon two female lions who were munching on a fresh warthog kill. We didn’t see the kill but we couldn’t have missed it by much. A few years ago, we would distract the girls from such scenes, handing them books and toys to avoid traumatizing them. Now it’s not a big deal and they seem to contextualize it. Cycle of life.

breakfast

We were alone until a second vehicle approached. Thankfully, the two of us were all that there would be. And things were about to get interesting.

As the lions were working on their breakfast, a few hyenas and a jackal looked on longingly. While the jackal had no chance of getting a seat at the table, the hyenas, with their powerful jaws, always stand a chance if they could outnumber lions. As such, they yipped and howled, hoping to call in reinforcements. Within a few minutes, more hyenas appeared on the horizon and their numbers swelled to more than a dozen. It’s a tough call for the hyenas since you want enough teammates to overtake the lions and get the meat. But the greater the number, the more there will be vying for the prize in the case of victory. The second you chase away the lions, your teammates become opponents. And the warthog, unlike a wildebeest or buffalo, wouldn’t be a lot of food for this many hungry hyenas, particularly after the lions had had their way with it for quite some time.

don't like people staring at me when I eat

As the hyenas felt numbers were beginning to work in their favor, you could feel the tension rising. They inched closer to the lions who were still aggressively ripping away at the carcass. They were well aware of what was likely coming, keeping the hyenas in the corner of their eyes. There were a few half-hearted attempts by the hyenas which were repelled by the lions. Finally, the boldest of the hyenas decided that it was their moment. The first one lunged towards the lions, followed almost immediately by the others. Chaos ensued. 

battle royale; note the hyena biting the lion's right hip

One of the lions seemed to be doing most of the fighting. The other, quickly assessing that it was game over, trotted off to avoid the powerful jaws of the aggressors. Within seconds, it was all over. The defeated lions walked away with blood-stained faces and bellies replenished (though probably not as much as they would have wanted).

The hyena-on-hyena frenzy began almost before the lions had retreated. Yelping. Nipping at each other. They’re rather vicious creatures. Apparently they don’t mind killing one of their own if the need arises. The whole scene was a lot to take in, activity happening on all sides of the vehicle.

a sea of hyenas; note the jackal keeping his distance

All the while the drama was unfolding, the lonely (and hungry) jackal kept his distance. He didn’t stand much of a chance, really. He looked rather pitiful, small and alone. As the hyena battle unfolded, he surprisingly bolted towards a piece of the carcass and fled with his prize. The hyenas had no interest in sharing with each other, let alone a jackal. Not long after making his escape, he was caught. Two hyenas fought for the stolen meat and the jackal stood and watched. Must have been even worse for the poor guy. His empty stomach was now combined with the taste of warthog in his mouth.

biding his time

There wasn’t much to see as the hyenas finished off the shredded carcass. We hoped that the jackal ended up with something but that seemed unlikely given the number and thoroughness of the hyenas.

* * *

Kiran photographing elephants

As we pulled away, I looked at my watch and noticed that the whole scene took a bite out of our schedule. We ended up seeing some more lions, including several cubs, and loads of other animals before making our way back to camp for breakfast. It’s a great way to start the day, and it wasn’t even 9am.

elands

After breakfast, we headed to the pool. I have to admit, that’s a pretty nice perk for a safari trip. It was sunny and warm and the water was clean and not too cold. It was bliss. And we still had a game drive to come in the late afternoon.

* * *

We had tea and headed out at 4pm as scheduled. The evening drive consisted of more lion sightings. It’s always a thrill to me to see these creatures in the wild. To be on their territory. I have mentioned previously that we took the girls to a zoo a couple years ago and they found it somewhat shocking. They’ve grown up seeing these animals roaming free and to see them in captivity for the first time is quite sad. It’s wonderful for people who would otherwise never see these animals in the flesh. I’m not anti-zoo. In fact zoos often have strong partnerships with national parks around the world, many with arrangements where they support each other. But for those who have the chance to see them in the wild, it’s amazing.

the king

We finished the by drive tracking a large pride of lions that seemed to be heading in the direction of a herd of buffaloes. Unfortunately we weren’t the only ones. Unlike the battle royale that morning between the hyenas and the lions where we only shared the experience with one other vehicle, we were now in a sea of around 30 Land Cruisers, some more aggressive than hyenas. It’s a sad reality that even in an environment as serene as this, asinine human behavior is still on display. There were drivers who were blocking the path of the lions to try to get good photos. They cut each other off on the roads. Tourists make noise. Our guide said that there have been efforts to try to reign in this behavior but they haven’t been successful. Clearly.

tracking buffaloes

We all watched. Waited. As the lions moved, we all moved with them, inching slowly in the direction of the herd. Everyone was anticipating something big to happen as the sun moved lower on the horizon. But the lions were taking their sweet time. It soon became apparent that time was not on our side. National parks have a curfew and those who were staying in camps that were farthest away needed to head out sooner. One by one, vehicles bailed from the scene. We were hoping for some poetic justice – that some spectacular drama might unfold after the obnoxious safari groups disappeared. Alas, it was not to be. Eventually, we also began making our way back to camp as darkness was setting in. We would find out the next day that, for whatever reason, that pride with so many mouths to feed, came up empty that night. We saw them the next morning, gaunt and hungry. Not sure how you can miss with such a large, badass group of females like they had but it’s possible.

After a hot shower, we gathered at the firepit and had some wine/ice tea. Lightning flashed in the partly cloudy night sky. After dinner we headed to bed. During the night, not far away I could hear the yelp of hyenas. Further away there were a few lion groans as well. I do love that sound. Awesome day.

* * *

Our last morning, in the interest of time, we opted to switch it up a bit. We packed and headed to breakfast by 6:30 before heading out on our last game drive. The idea was to avoid needing to return to camp, meandering our way towards the exit. We needed to be at the gate by about 10:30am to avoid paying for another day of park fees.

The day would be relatively low-key. We saw the pride of lions from the day before and watched their cubs wrestling with each other and occasionally with their mothers. We spent quite a bit of time just driving and enjoying the last hours of our safari before heading back to Nairobi.

We did get to see a couple of cheetahs lying in the shade of an acacia tree. They are my favorite animal, though on this occasion they weren’t very entertaining. Unlike the lions we saw earlier in the morning, these brothers (apparently they were a pack of five when they were a bit younger) had a successful night (or morning) on their hunt. Their bellies were massive and it appeared that they could barely move. The guide inquired out loud about what would happen when the sun moved and one of them lost his shade. Would he fight off his postprandial stupor, get up and shift positions? Given that we had sat admiring them for quite some time, there was time for us to receive an answer.  One of the brothers slowly made it to his feet, slowly walked a short distance and lay back down fully in the shade. That was about as entertaining as it got.

fat and happy

From there we drove another hour or so but nothing eventful happened. We made our way to the gate and began the drive back to Nairobi. It was sad to leave such a wonderful and serene environment but duty called. Great weekend though.

 

Baidoa

We’re nearing the one-year anniversary of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. I don’t mention other crises much in the blog given that I’m thrust in the middle of the crisis in Somalia. I think I’ve only mentioned the war insofar as it has impacted the situation in the Horn of Africa.

In Somalia, the humanitarian crisis is compounded by conflict. On one hand, it’s understandable. There are fewer resources and it raises the temperature as groups arm themselves to make sure that their respective communities do not go without.

                                                                    * * *

I just completed a visit to what is considered the “epicenter” of the severe drought in Somalia. Basically it’s a town of about ## that has been inundated with hundreds of thousands of people from other areas where drought and/or conflict has driven them from their homes.

Baidoa town

They reside in ramshackle housing, based in theory on age-old traditional Somali housing – dome-shaped tents made by planting a circle of thin branches in the ground pointing upwards about 8-15 high (corresponding to the diameter of the structure). The tops of the branches are then pulled towards each other in the middle creating the frame for the dome shape. Brush is then gathered and woven between the branches to strengthen the frame. The final step is to find material to use for the outer shell which overlays the frame. Traditionally this was done through thatching. But these days, things tend to get a bit messy. In ideal conditions, international community and step in and provide plastic sheeting to provide protection from the elements and also enhance privacy. Unfortunately, the numbers of these structures far outnumber the available resources. As such, people pull together whatever they can find to cover the frame. I’ve seen about anything being used: old clothing, cans (tops/bottoms removed with cylinder flattened out), plastic bags, etc., anything that will cover any holes. As sad looking as they are, they are quite functional and their rounded shape makes them resilient to heavy winds. They tend not to do well as protection against rain but that, unfortunately, hasn’t been an issue.

walls of a clinic; injury art on the left

My visit was routine in the sense that I did what I normally do during these trips. I meet with staff/leadership, meet with government officials, visit our activities and inform myself about the situation on the ground and what kind of support is needed from my end.

The key takeaways were pretty obvious. We’re in our third year of drought. Water sources are rapidly drying up. People are still flocking to bigger towns in order to access humanitarian support. Resources are overstretched. Focus is now riding on the hope that by reducing allocations, we can potentially bridge the gap until the next rains fall – normally not until April. It’s terribly stressful given that the rainy seasons have been so weak that there’s a strong chance that what we are doing is unsustainable. If rains don’t come this season, we’re likely to see a step change in the humanitarian impact of this drought. It’s a very scary situation.

housing of those who have been displaced by drought and/or conflict

I was taken to one area where I’ve been three times in the last six months. It’s been interesting to see the progress. When I arrived six months ago, it was an intense period of new arrivals of people desperately seeking aid. They were arriving by the dozens each day. The looks on the faces of the people were startling. Gaunt and weary, some had traveled on foot or on donkey cart for dozens up to a couple hundred kilometers. Most were drought displaced though many fled their homes due to conflict. Some left to avoid their sons being taken as child soldiers. Nutrition screening was taking place under the hot sun given that there was no shelter. There were no latrines so people were defecating in the brush outside the camp, exposing women and girls to protection risks. Water was being trucked in regularly to fill a couple of large bladders connected to water taps. We were all doing our best to stave off the ever-looming famine conditions.

queues for water rations

By my visit in December, the numbers of ramshackle tents stretched as far as the eye could see. Those that had been there longer had settled in and, according to my discussions with some of the residents, were receiving enough aid to at least have one meal per day. We had built a shelter for nutrition screening of new arrivals and the requested latrines had been constructed (though were far from adequate by they time they were completed). Though meant to be temporary, history shows that these encampments eventually become permanent as climate change and high birth rates prevent people from returning to the livelihoods (pastoralism and agriculture) that had sustained their ancestors for hundreds of years. There just isn’t enough water.

Upon arrival this time, things were even more developed. A safe space for women had been constructed. There were women and girls inside learning math. As I approached the building, I could hear laughing and chanting. When I reached the doorway, they began clapping. They were obviously informed that I was coming and that could have contributed to the ambiance. They likely don’t get that many external visitors like this.

As I observed the class, several thoughts entered my head. The first was, of course, the joy that seemed to palpitate from the space. The contrast with what I experienced in December was rather dramatic. Despondent children milled about the dilapidated housing with nothing to do. The mood was bleak, though not as bleak as when I was there in September when the bulk of them had just arrived, but bleak nonetheless. Hopelessness is a horrible thing. And it’s contagious. You’ve lost everything and now it’s a matter of survival. Whatever aspirations you had were dashed as you’re simply focused on surviving.

It’s hard to describe how good it felt to see them giggling, chanting, etc. At the same time, thoughts entered my head that thousands of others still don’t have their basic needs met. These investments, as simple as they are, are contrasted with other camps where there is little or no response by the international community. Everyone is moving as quickly as possible but gaps remain. Coordination is improving. But we’re all in fear that the humanitarian support will drop off as donor governments get distracted by other crises.

* * *

After the visit, we headed back towards town and stopped at a different camp that we support. This one had received less support. When asked why the discrepancy, I was told that part of the reason is that this camp is a bit more unruly. There’s a lot of dissension due in part to the lack of homogeneity in the clan mix. And more crime apparently. As such, I was told that it’s more complicated to distribute aid. I did see some latrines that we’d built and a couple of bladders where people were filling up their jerrycans. I asked the camp leader and he said that they were receiving some cash support and food from WFP, though not enough. But at least their getting some assistance.

During the brief stop, I spotted this woman that I had seen the previous visit. It might be a coincidence that she was at the water point, or maybe she just hangs out there. But she had a distinct face that helped me to recognize her out of thousands of people.

This time I spoke to her. I told her that I remembered her from December. She smiled and told me that she remembered me as well. I guess we were both distinct in our own ways. Not only am I obviously a foreigner, I show up with a very visible armed escort. I’m not the only one roaming about with loads of security, but it’s probably not an everyday occurrence.

I asked her about the support she’s been receiving. As expected, she said that she’s barely getting by. My colleague was translating for me (she was speaking Maay, pronounced “my”, a dialect in southern regions of Somalia) and I noticed that he used the first-person singular in the translation. It jumped out at me since it would be uncommon in this context for someone to discuss these matters in individual terms. One would generally make reference to the community or at least their family. I turned to my colleague and asked if she really did use the first-person. He confirmed that she did but then turned to her for clarification. She responded that she was indeed alone. She didn’t offer any explanation as to why, only that she had joined some of her community, catching a lift on a donkey cart, as they fled their remote village in search of humanitarian support.

The camp leader told me that she gets some support from the community. They apparently help her with some food and other things here and there. It was quite sad, to be honest. This is a horrible situation for anyone to experience, but to go through this in the later years of your life alone, I can’t imagine.

* * *

my chariot awaits...

After a couple nights, I was headed back to Mogadishu. Happy to see the work that we’re doing at the heart of the drought response. Troubled by the devastating crisis that continues. Anxious as to whether or not we might get some rain in the coming months. Time will tell.

Jill Biden visiting Nairobi, on the tarmac as we arrived. Slightly different chariot...(flanked by very cool Osprey planes not in the photo)