Kenya and the 2013 Great Migration

There is great excitement as this year's vacation gets underway.

And as we plunge into our special experience, I can't help but think about what-has-been (as Beryl Markham or Karen Blixen/Isak Dinesen might have written). The difference, though, is that this experience is not about leaving somewhere. It's about going back.

Even so, Markham herself shared that sort of reverse mental picture as she wrote about a big change she was experiencing in her life.

Here's what she wrote at the opening of Chapter IX of her memoir (West with the Night):

Somebody with a flair for small cynicism one said: "We live and do not learn." But I have learned some things.

I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesterdays are buried deep - leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance. The cloud clears as you enter it. I have learned this, but like everyone, I learned it late.

I'm not sure I'm in agreement with Markham on this.

Yes, I very much support the contention of many, including our special Peter Drucker, whose thoughts about re-inventing one's self connects here. It is best to move forward, "opening a new page" as we move into an unknown (or perhaps - in this case - known) future. In my way of thinking about it, though, I tend to be more focused on what's coming, and what that future will bring and - I must admit - that I'm not too concerned with that "dead hour." It's gone, it's respected, I've learned from it, but I'm much more interested in what I will learn.

All this comes to mind and resonates with me as I think about my visit to Kenya. My pleasure in this journey is sweetly strengthened by the fact that this time we bring with us four "new" visitors, introducing them to our (almost) favorite place in the world. We brought two people into the I-love-Kenya camp with our safari in late 2010 (after I had lived there for a year), and now four more people will return to America to share Kenya adventure stories with their friends.

What pleasures do we expect? Certainly high on the list are visits with friends and loved ones who live in Kenya, people who have become part of our lives and who are simply referred to as "our Kenya family." Other people? Of course. If there's time I'll head over to the client with whom I worked for a year and, perhaps, have a few "professional" conversations to review and be pleased with (I hope) progress made since my assignment ended. And perhaps some more casual encounters, perhaps looking up my barber, the lady who took care of me where I lived, and other people I came to know in my time in Kenya.

In truth, though, this year's journey is holiday, a vacation from from the workaday world of my life in America. And the timing this year is carefully chosen, as it has been specifically determined by Africa's Great Migration. As this is truly a natural phenomenon, the dates for the migration are based solely on when the wildebeests and other ungulates figure out that the grass is greener on the other side of the Mara River and dare to endanger their lives (some of them) to get across the river, attempting to get through the crocodiles to make a path for the thousands of others behind them, all of them trying to get to the green grass they need. And once they get across there's another gauntlet, as other predators - larger carnivores - are waiting hungrily for them.

Still, many wildebeests, zebra, Thomson's gazelle, and eland make it through (some 2,000,000, it has been estimated), and seeing them all as they transverse this great expanse of land is truly a spectacular site. As usual with me, once I experienced the Great Migration I couldn't stop talking about it, which is why we're going now and taking people back with us. And for those who are interested, my version of my earlier Great Migration experiences was told back in 2010 here at my personal blog. Take a look at the archive dates to the left; go to the posts between August 22 and September 25, 2010 and you'll learn much about Mr. Guy's experiences with the Great Migration. On top of that, there's also a good picture of the Great Migration is the CBS News (90 Minutes) feature from 2009. It's a good story, well-told.

As for what we'll see, naturally we're going to enjoy the spectacle of the Great Migration, but in introducing our friends to Kenya we'll see lots more, including the spectacular scenery (lots of photos of that as well, in the 2009-2010 blog posts here at the personal blog). And Mr. Guy will of course take his pals to see his elephants, especially at the Amboseli National Park - in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro. [And no, we won't be climbing Mr. Kilimanjaro - I've wanted to do that for years but there are a very practical couple of reasons I've not done it: 1) I'm not really a climber and 2) I can't find anyone who will train with me for the time required, so I've come to realize that Mr. Guy's climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro will remain in the realm of fantasy!]

But there's more at Amboseli, although it will be probably the elephants that will have my attention. As it turns out (I don't know why) Amboseli is the one area of Kenya where the elephants have lived somewhat protected lives, and many of the animals are very old indeed. Very old and, as far as any of us visitors can tell, very gentle. The poaching that is ravaging Africa (and even taking place in Kenya, to some degree, even though Kenya seriously outlawed elephant poaching about ten years ago) does not seem to have made its way into Amboseli, making this park absolutely perfect for two spectacular game drives a day. And we intend to take full advantage of them.

We'll also have game drives at the Nairobi National Park, the Tsavo East and Tsavo West National Parks, have a drive through the beautiful tea country to get to Kisii (where we'll see more friends and other members of our Kenya family), and visit the museums and some of Kenya's historic sites in and around Nairobi. We're having a splendid adventure!

Come August, watch this space. [But don't be disappointed if there isn't be much written before then - I'll do what I can but I expect I'm going to be pretty busy!]

The Ngong Hills

Even in Kenya there are "winter Sundays," but the mildness of the day - even when slightly overcast - seems to banish any thoughts of gloomy winter. While the Kenyans might grumble a little about how cold it gets, the weather is still something to be grateful for.

And what better way to spend a Sunday afternoon with friends than walking in the Ngong Hills? Along a ridge of the Great Rift Valley (shown here), the views are equally as spectacular as those from the viewpoints on the highway to Nakuru. Just breath-taking (even, as I say, on a day that is not bathed in glorious sunshine - I can't even imagine how spectacular this sight would be on a sunny, summer's day!).

As for why the hills are called what they're called, legend has it that the term "ngong" was chosen because the four peaks of the ridge appear - or seemed to appear - to be knuckles to the Maasai, and "ngong" is their word for "knuckles." O.K. I can go along with that. Whatever they're called, they are beautiful to behold, and situated so that on one side the Ngong Hills overlook the Nairobi National Park and on the other the Great Rift Valley, a visitor has to be a little aware that he is experiencing sights unlike what he would see anywhere else.

In addition to the natural beauty of the hills, the Ngong Hills since the early days of the last century have also acquired a rather romantic aura, since Karen Blixen (Isak Dinesen) opened Out of Africa with the line "I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills," and the hills figure prominently in everything we know about Blixen and her life in Africa. She came to British East Africa in 1913 and one has the impression that the Ngong Hills were some sort of overwhelming presence in her life (as they would certainly be in mine, if I had ever undertaken to do what she did).

And it was to the Ngong Hills where she took the remains of her lover, Denys Finch Hatton, after his tragic death in 1931. The famous big-game hunter loved the hills, often hunted there - as well as in many other places throughout the territory - and for years, it was said, the lions would come to lie in the sun on his grave.

Whether the story is true or not, it is a wonderful way to think about how a man who loved Africa so much would be so respected. We did not visit the grave (although I would have liked to have done so, romantic that I am), as it is on the far side of the peak we were visiting and the walk would have been too long for so late in the afternoon. Perhaps another time we'll pay our respects to Denys Finch Hatton.

Today, on the peak we visited, the views are spectacular. And only made better, it seems to me, by the small forest of wind generation turbines erected there. If extracting energy from the wind is a practical method for reducing our dependence of fossil fuel, I'm all for it.

And there's no question about it, these are awesome machines, made even more splendid by the tremendous contrast of the Maasai herdsman with his cows (English-speaking Maasai, for some reason, don't use the word "cattle" - they say "cows" when they mean to indicate the plural - I don't know why). I loved wandering amongst his cows with my friends, and he seemed to be pleased that we were there (photos are at Mr. Guy's Ngong Hills Album).

We had a good time strolling about, enjoying the views, watching the other people, and, yes, being careful. As we came up the road, the guard at the gate actually tried to discourage us from going further (and to be fair, it was a little late in the afternoon). But we persisted and he gave in. Not without warning us first, though, since it seems that there are in the Ngong Hills many places where people can be lured off the road or the path or the trail, and awful things happen. And more often that we want to know about.

But the guard was kind, lowered his rifle to take the reduced entrance fee he permitted us, since we seemed so determined, and made us promise that we would be coming back down the road before it began to get dark. We were fine, and we had no problems, and we enjoyed the views and laughing with one another. And there were plenty of other people, so it didn't seem particularly dangerous, and we enjoyed ourselves.

But I suppose he knew was he was talking about, so we complied.