Bush Camp Sweet Bush Camp

I’m sitting in the Chumba, watching the KBC troop of baboons over my shoulder. We just returned from Lake Nakuru, National Park after a near week of expedition.

We arrived the end of last week. Our group of SFS studies, faculty and staff stayed at a fenced compound constructed by the Kenya Wildlife Club in the 1930s. No changes have been made, except for maintenance, because any such structure in the park needs to be made so that it can be torn down and the habitat restored. So we slept in tents around the buildings- thick green canvas ones- and went inside for lectures and meals. Sitting around the campfire our first night, the site manager warned us that we had set up all our tents directly in the path of the “baboon road.” You see, the baboons in Nakuru are more habituated to people than the ones back at KBC. They are arguably bigger, and have been known to snatch food right out of students’ hands. Worse- they don’t always do a good job distinguishing food from hands. Lucky for us, we didn’t have any nasty run ins with the troop.  Although our guards and teachers alike took great joy in sling-shotting them whenever they came to close.

The park itself is beautiful- miles of lush, tropical forests surrounding a large alkaline lake. No lie, going into the fenced forest felt like Jurassic Park. It’s been called “birders’ paradise” after the 450 species of migratory birds. My favorite is the African Fish Eagle. I couldn’t zoom in enough to take my own picture, but with attribution to () here is another.

What Lake Nakuru is best known for are its Rhinos. It was actually the first White Rhino sanctuary in Kenya. We did exercises in the field driving around, counting and tracking these Rhinos. White Rhinos aren’t actually White at all. “White” was once “wide”- as in they have large, wide lips good for grazing the nutritious grasslands. Black Rhinos are gray, and have triangular lips for browsing. They are shyer than their relatives, and only “black” because I guess someone needed to name them an opposite name to distinguish between the two.

Besides Rhinos, Lake Nakuru has many zebra, impale, gazelles, lions, and leopards! We got to see quite a bunch of the latter two elusive carnivores. We also saw the only five hippos in the park- all at once!

What Lake Nakuru has the most of is the cape buffalo- which here moved right by our tents. They kill more people than any other mammal in Africa. And there is a huge overpopulation in this Park. So much so that when you look at graphs, the number of overall different species individuals keep declining, but the total biomass weight still rises. Why? Because buffalo are squeezing out other animals- mainly by over grazing. Then they themselves are growing (and inbreeding) as a population. Buffalos being so heavy, the total weight of all the animals in Nakuru keeps growing. Bad news. Especially because the buffalo’s overgrazing takes out all the nutritious grasses and weedlike invasive move in in their place. Yet the park won’t decrease or translocate their buffalo population. They are a mighty beast to behold, especially from a few feet away!

Most days we went out on games drives, counting and recording animals. We observed different habitats, and which species preferred them. Now that we’re back, the real work begins. Exams are quickly approaching, and in less than two weeks we will be transferred to Tanzania. Our time in Lake Nakuru went fast, but my time in Africa is going even faster!  

Location: Lake Nakuru, National Park

With our Expedition to Lake Nakuru National Park approaching, I decided to make some changes. We won’t be showering for sometime as we camp, hike and explore. The physical attractiveness of my hair was one worry I didn’t want, so I signed up for KBC’s improv beauty salon. Here’s the story! 

Location: Kimana, Kenya

The first thing we did was make chai. I have been advise to live by a to do list of only three things. 1.Ask people what they time and listen. 2. Eat food with them and 3. Drink chai tea.

Minutes after Steph and I arrived in Melita and Nirosim’s boma for our homestay, Nirosim offered us chai. We sat with her in her musky and cozy cattle-dung numba, as she poured powered tea into our hands and tipped them into the steaming pot. She cut open the cartons of milk we brought and added them in, along with an ample amount of sugar. Once the drink began to foam she poured it from the pot to the mugs and from the mugs into the thermos. Then she filled us each smug and smiled.  As I think about it now as I remember sipping the sweet, frothy liquid–how one can feel so completely welcomed, ever so far from home.

Steph and I at first didn’t want to get out of the Van when we arrived at the bomba. When we waved out the window at the Mama, and she didn’t wave back, we exchanged worried glances. But now as we sat with Mama Nirosim, sipping chai and trading what little Kiswahili we knew, we felt perfectly at ease. For the rest of the day we were to fallow our Mama through her chores and duties as a Maasai woman. Everyday matters for her were adventures to us. We helped her collected poles and firewood for her boma. She is building a new village for her family (construction is women’s work here) not far from her old one.  She gently strapped bundles of cut and de-thorned  branches with a leather band and hung them across or foreheads. It is amazingly easy to carry heavy burdens this way, I don’t know why I’ve ever bothered to pick things up with my hands when I can walk with them hung against my back.

From there we helped drive out the cattle, which are friendly and quite large. A huge bull- walked by as Nirosim’s husband Melita gave us the names of each.

“How do you say- not small hapana kidogo- mm…” I stretched my arms out wide as the bull walked by.

“Big! Kumbwa!”  replied Nelita, laughing. The corners of his eyes wrinkled around his Maasai cheek brandings. “Any questions on us or learning words, you ask!” He said. “And make photos, many photos- for to share.”

Nelita spoke nearly flawless English, and taught me a lot of KiMaasai during the day. His wife never went to school, he explained, and speaks only KiSwahili and KiMaasai. We helped them cut branches to feed the sheep and goats.  He asked if I wanted a picture of them.

Next it came time for some home repairs. Like I mentioned before, Maasai houses are made of cattle dung, so we weren’t using any nails or paint brushes for Nirosim’s DIY project. She mixed together cattle dung, urine and water. Melita reminded us to take off our bracelets and rings. With a grimace, but also with excitement, Steph and I scooped up the dung-plaster and smeared it along the cracking walls of the numba. Niromsim directed where to apply the mixture, and we pressed it into the holes and exposed framework of the house.

“You work and she take photo? Then wash hands and you can switch,” said Melita.

Next, and maybe a little ironically, we helped cook. We had brought a gift of cabbage, corn meal, milk, tea and vegetable fat with us, and now Nirosim helped us prepare it for lunch. We helped (rather slowly) chop up the cabbage and tomatoes and an onion. Melita laughed when I told him many cooks in American are men, and college-age women like us couldn’t really cook. But we tried our best. Steph and I blanched as she guided us in scooping two large heaps of vegetable fat into the pot. We stirred in the vegetables and waited.

“Tunakupika,” smiled Nirosim. We’re cooking.

We also made Ugali, a blend or cornmeal and water that is the Kenyan bread and butter. It’s white, warm and cake-like, with virtually no flavor. I love a chunk of Ugali with soup but couldn’t handle the entire pound-slab our Mama cut for me. She served Steph and I each a quarter of the pot-sized mound. She also heaped three helpings of cabbage on my plate. When I tried to refuse with a “Sawa sawa” Okay, okay, she smiled and reached for more. In Masaai manners you are expected to finish, and we tried our best. But today the Ugali won.

After lunch we helped Nirosim herd the goats to a local river so they could drink. On the way back, she mentioned being tired from carrying her baby. I offered to help, secretly having wanted to hold him since I saw he was coming along, and was thrilled when she slide him off her and tied him onto my back.

“Maybe I should just stay here,” I told Steph as she snapped a picture.

We stayed longer, talking to Melita. He taught us KiMaasai colors as Nirosim sat beading. He pointed out one of each color and taught us the names patiently. Nirosim let us help make the necklace with her, directing the pattern of beads and helping us pull the wire through each hole.

Beading was so peaceful and calming. It’s amazing how quickly our time went. Before we knew it, it had gone from 8 to 5 and our van was here to pick us up. I told Melita I would rather stay, and promised to send copies of the photos.

Location: Kimana, Kenya

I’ve only ever been to two weddings in my life. The first was my aunt and uncles; I was a five and a flower girl. The second, actually, occurred yesterday. Not in a church or chapel, but in a Masaai boma (homestead).

Our neighbors- the local Masaai tribe- invited us to the wedding of a young warrior. The same boy- between 17 and 20 years of age- had danced at our goat roast the week before. Warrior dancing isn’t anything like or YMCA or Cha-Cha slide. The group of warriors- called the Maran- marched in, in full jewelry and red wrap-arounds called “shukas”.  They create their own rhythm like an a capella gourp would. It’s a lot of grunts and high squeaks, but the melody will bounce in your head for hours after. The cluster up, and begin to dance.  

Warrior dancing involves a lot of jumping. The boys stand one or two at the tip and pogo up, straight-legged.  Although this is normally reserved for the men, us Mzungu women got our shot too.

The women’s dance involves a lot more lyrics singing. This is a video of the song they performed at our first boma visit.

<still trying to upload the ladies’song video, limited internet, sorry>

See that undulating head-bob? That’s the Masaai signature move, and flows into the rhythm of every song. Both men and women will dance this way; it was the communal dance of choice at the wedding. The women processed in with singing and marching, until they reached the central fenced area where the warriors and groom were jumping. The warriors opened up their circle to let the women join, and the head bobbing began. We were invited to join in, but as no one else did, I hung back and took pictures.

While we arrived for the party portion, the actual ceremony had taken place early in the morning.

No wedding bands or priestly blessing here. The ceremony is much more subtle. The bride, a beautiful girl of about 18, is led to the new house. She customarily refuses to go in at first. The other women- or mamas- bribe her with gifts. “Go in and we’ll give you one goat. Two goats.” Or “Go in and I will make you a new shuka.” The longer the girl holds out, the more she gets. When she feels content, she enters her new home and stays there throughout the rest of the festivities. She is now a married woman.

The couple married yesterday did not choose each other. Many Masaai matches are arranged, though as times change a few are by free choice. I don’t think our bride had that option.

She didn’t look happy as we spoke to her through our Kiswahili teacher Daniel. We gave her a gift of 60,000 shillings- about 60 USD or one goat. Or Student Affairs Manager, Taara, later told us all Masaai public events require such a face as the bride’s- solemn and restrained. Still, many of us girls were left wondering. 

Location: Kimana, Kenya

Okay, so I know that’s not true (Pride Rock- the original- is in the Serengeti) but with the sprawling herds of elephants, white breaded brindled gnus, and zebras, the wallowing hippos, and meandering giraffes- the plains of Amboseli look like a seen from that age-old Disney film.

Location: Amboseli National Park, Kenya

Back at Penn State I climbed a few stairs to get to my lectures. Yesterday, we climbed a mountain.

Location: Kimana, Kenya

I’ve been in East Africa a little over twenty four hours; I’m the happiest I’ve been in months. The biggest change is I am hungry to learn again- everything is new and exciting. In Kenya, however, patience is the way of life. Everything– from travel, to cooking, to connecting to the internet– involves a lot of waiting. We visited the small town of Kimana today, and the locals gave funny looks to the students who walked and ate at the same time. They do not multitask like we do. Freshman year for me was filled with anxiety and stress. Even when I had nothing to worry about I invented something. Here, all around us, from the red dust fields to the open wide sky everything cries “slow down.” After all, Africa has been a patient witness to all of human history.

My story here began with the four hour car ride from Nairobi yesterday. You might think this is boring, but I could barely stay in my seat. I pried open the SFS van window and stuck my head out- scouting for giraffes (“twiga”), goats (“mboozee”), gazelle (“antelope”), cows (“ngombe”) and donkeys…  (I forget). Swahili words are like little treasures I find and stuff into my pockets. I am so eager to speak to all these people. In Kimana today I tried my best (earning a few friendly chuckles). It is like being a child again- a “matoto.”

Kilimanjaro Bush Camp site is tucked in Kimana Park.  It’s surrounded by a (dare I say flimsy) chain linked fence and carved wood poles. As Tara, our Student Assistance Manager reminds us, lions, water buffalo, elephants, baboons, pythons, and other animals cross through here when they please. We are the guests.

Today- my second day- involved a lot of orientation.  Not grading systems or attendance expectations (which by the way are A, B+, B, B-, C etc and mandatory respectively ), but rather covered the Kenyan legal system, camp curfews, health hazards and local wildlife. We walked around the “Outside Running Route”- a 3K loop outside the camp. Every so often Jackson, a program assistant, would jump out of the bush pretending to be one sort of animal or another. We covered how to react to each different species. I’ll break it down. Predators- maintain eye contact and back away, maybe stick out your elbows to look big- just don’t turn and run as their normal prey would. Herbivores- run. Climb up a tree if you can. (Except for elephants- they push them down so hide in a bush instead). And monkeys, watch them and give them space- the more the better. And never get between any type of mother-baby combo.

Everywhere I turn here there is something to learn. After our walk, I signed out a book called “Tracks and Signs,” by Chris and Tilde Stuart. There are tacks crisscrossing all the walking paths here! Between this, Swahili, animal calls, the cooking, camera skills and not even to mention our actual curriculum, there is sooooo much to learn. I have to stop often and pause, remembering again- “patience.” 

Location: Kimana, Kenya

They say the best part of life is the journey, not the destination. But, I have to admit, I’m en route to Nairobi, Kenya, and I’m pretty excited to get there!

My family dropped me off at Newark Liberty International Airport yesterday evening. After a manic packing session, and several last minute trips to CVS, I was ready to go. I hugged and kissed my mom and brothers ttfn and set of toward Gate 54. I was pretty nervous at first, anxious that I wouldn’t find my class mates, and would have to make the journey alone. I would be bored and totally out of the loop with the others when we finally met up. After a few minutes of heart palputations, I saw a group of college students, larger than I had imagined, sitting in a smooshed-shaped circle to the left. I sat down and, well, have never felt so welcome.

One boy walked around with a camcorder, taping introductions.

‘We haven’t met yet, so this is awkward, but say your name into the camera.’

I laughed. ‘I’m Kate.’

‘Something about yourself?’

‘I’m excited to be here!’

I sat in seat 45J in between two new friends Emily and Nicole. We have so much in common. Interests in food politics, international culturess, wildlife and exploring. My classsmates like National Geographic, people watching, and Michael Pollen. I’m in heaven!

After a somewhat cramped, but otherwise uneventful plane ride, we arrived at Heathrow. We’ve been camping out in the seats: napping, snacking and exploring thw duty-free shops. It’s a twelve hours lay-over (only four more to go!)

I’ve taken a break from practicing Swahili to purchase time on a computer and blog. But here’s a little sample of my recent lingual aquistions.

‘una taka nee-nee’- what do you want?

‘geena la-koh- na-nee’- what’s your name?

‘geena la-goo nee…’- my name is…

…darn. I learn more, but I guess I haven’t practiced enough to make it stick yet. Communication is so important. I want to be a part of this new culture, not a spectator. As Emily, Nicole and I all agreed, we ain’t gonna be no tourists!

Location: London, England