Saying 'karibu' to crazy Kenya

By CAROL LAZAR*

A few days ago, I was chasing Lesinku, a long-legged Maasai, along the edge of a rocky ravine directly above the surging Lurgard Falls in Tsavo East, Kenya. In this hazardous terrain Lesinku seemed oblivious to any possible danger and his car-tyre sandalled feet barely touched the ground as he strode.

Elegantly tall and thin, he looked like a mobile painting of a Maasai with his ochre-daubed braids, fiery orange robe and spear. Intricate beadwork adorned his various exposed body parts and curved metal horn-like earrings pierced his ears.

The word surrealistic flashed into my mind.

Two days before, I'd been chasing through the Rosebank Mall, an exclusive shopping centre in Johannesburg, South Africa. Unreal? No, just Africa.

Scandalous pasts which became more scandalous futures
Wednesday morning was 30 minutes old when the Kenya Airways flight departed from Johannesburg International Airport.

Good heavens, who the hang would want to fly to Kenya in the middle of the night, I'd thought to myself late Tuesday evening as I made my way to the airline's check-in counter.

Bloody madness.

But no, what a brilliant idea this midnight flight turned out to be.

Fortunately, on this flight, there were enough seats at the back to be able to commandeer three and lie flat which I did immediately the seatbelt light pinged.

What was totally mindblowing was the view over the endless African valley to the distant mountains
My eyes had just shut when a particularly delicious fragrance wafted up my nostrils. Grilled lamb masala with saffron rice - just what I fancied at 1am. It was delectable. Then came three hours' sleep before we landed at Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta International airport.

Three cups of strong Kenyan coffee later, we connected with a one-hour domestic flight to Mombasa and flew over Mount Kilimanjaro, which I missed but colleague Kate Turkington saw as she was seated on the right-hand side of the plane.

"Karibu," smiled Peter Mbocha of Intra Safaris, our leader-to-be for the following four days, who met us at Moi Airport and swiftly transferred us to his trusty 4x4.

So round about 9am on Wednesday morning we were driving through quite-run-down but still attractive Mombasa, then crossing over the New Nyali Bridge, past the Freretown Bell Tower en route to Malindi, two hours north on the way to Somalia.

The bell (now hanging in a nearby Lutheran church) was originally erected by the Society of Freed Slaves in the 1880s to warn the people of Freretown of impending attacks by Arab slave traders.

Kenya's history is detailed, much written about and popularised (by films such as Out of Africa). It was a country of slave traders, hunters, settlers - many with scandalous pasts which became more scandalous futures.

And then there were the indigenous people with a history so ancient that scientists refer to Kenya as the "cradle of mankind".

It was just a little way north at Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania, that Louis and Mary Leakey first excavated prehistoric remains, then later, it was their son Richard, palaeontologist and conservationist, whose investigations on the shores of Kenya's Lake Turkana unearthed even more ancient ancestral hominods.

"Today," said Peter Mbocha, "over 42 tribes co-exist in Kenya. English and Swahili, the common languages, are spoken by everyone educated," he added.

In Kenya private enterprise flourishes and tiny cubicle shops line the road, their names a delight. Lucky Place, Mary's Dainty Delight and a hundred varieties on "paradise", such as Paradise Haircutters, Find Paradise Jewellers, Smiley Paradise Bar, Paradise Fashions and Massage.

Our time was limited which meant we couldn't detour to visit the ruins of the 14th century Swahili town and slave trading settlement of Jumba La Mtwana. Nor could we branch off to Gedi, the major historical site on this road.

An even older Swahili town dating from the 13th century, Gedi represented the golden era of Islamic culture and it was home to 2500 people.

Past small coastal dwellings we journeyed, the vegetation a mixture of rolling sisal fields, cashew nut plantations, indigenous forests and doum palms.

The doum, by the way, is a godsend to those who battle to survive. Doum pith produces a wonderfully alcoholic beverage, the greenery is used for thatch and the unrolled leaves for mats. Best of all is the gingery taste used for food flavouring, hence its alternative name of gingerbread tree.

Into Malindi we drove. At first glimpse, it looked like an Arabian Maputo, only a whole lot smaller.

Dusty and faded, the buildings were a mixture of curving Arabic, colonial British and squat African architecture.

The streets bustled with ubiquitous stalls and do-it-yourself service outlets. Shoe-Up! exclaimed one, Human Medicine Vetinary Medicine, exclaimed another, Diplomat Hair Stylist, International Hair Stylists, yet another.

The beach at Malindi is yellow, peaceful and lined with relatively few resorts. Into the Planhotel Tropical Beach Resort Peter drove and, boy, at this stage, we were happy to have landed.

Now this is a four-star hotel much frequented by Italians. On arrival we were greeted in Italian. "S'bona, more," we responded. "Ah, our visitors from South Africa, Mandela, Bafana Bafana," said the receptionist. We were to hear that throughout Kenya during the next few days.

Our rooms were adequate, spacious, cool, airconditioned (thank heavens), with beds wide enough for four fat folk.

But, perhaps the most relevant thing about this Planhotel is that everything is inclusive. Food, drinks, activities, entertainment, sport, the lot.

On arrival you are branded with a garish plastic band which is fastened to your wrist only to be removed on your departure.

I find a watch obtrusive, so hated the plastic. That said, it makes sense.

Wiggle your plastic arm and you get a free drink, food, lounge chair or whatever. You also get to join in all the activities going - should you be willing.

Large, well-muscled women (and the odd man) kept trying to inspan us for jogging, exercises, quiz contests and other strenuous activities.

It got to the stage where I'd see an apprentice Amazon approaching and I'd shut my eyes, open my mouth and snore like a hippo.

The food was good with fish dishes galore and all delicious. No dried out, sad fish sticks here, but succulent delicately-spiced dishes in coconut milk, or fish grilled to underdone perfection.

Less glitzy and far quieter than Mombasa, Malindi has a charm of its own.

Not least are the Kenyans who would graduate from charm school with upper firsts.

I strolled on the beach and was fleetingly accompanied by various locals all fascinated to know from whence I came. And here's the interesting thing; almost everyone I met could speak at least three, four or five languages with ease. Proficient in English, Swahili and their own tribal language, they also spoke Italian, German, Spanish and French.

Early next morning, after breakfast, Peter whipped us away to Tsavo East, a three-hour drive.

By now, we'd been in Kenya for one and a half days.

The road to Tsavo was gravel and winding. The vegetation increasingly sparse.

On that drive, two things were particularly memorable. Firstly the large number of women we saw carrying bright yellow containers filled with water, secondly, when passing villages, the amount of exposed litter.

It was a thrill to arrive at the Bachuma gate to Tsavo East and, as we rounded that first bend in the road, we spotted fringe-eared oryx displaying decidedly fringed ears.

The terrain in Tsavo East, Kenya's largest game park, is generally flat and dry, but en route, we did see Grant's gazelle, Coke's hartebeest and dik-dik by the dozen.

Once the home of large elephant herds, from the 1950s to '80s, it was grossly depleted by a mixture of over population of elephants, drought and extensive poaching.

Elephant management was and still is a contentious issue. In the early 70s, Tsavo's elephant population was about 18,000, today there are about 8200.

Today poaching is largely controlled (poachers caught in previous years were liable to be shot on sight, a controversial solution that raised human rights issues still debated). However, the elephants tend to decimate the vegetation, thus starving themselves in the process.

In 1989, the United Nations Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) banned ivory trading but in recent years, several African countries have petitioned to have the ban overturned. Their case being that they control elephants judiciously and have, over the years, stockpiled large ivory reserves (from elephants dying naturally).

On November 13 2002, CITES overturned the ban to allow South Africa and Botswana a one-off sale of stockpiled ivory. Profits from the sale will go back into conservation, say these countries. However, Kenyan and many other conservationists worldwide were appalled and warn that this decision will once again stimulate elephant poaching.

After what seemed a long, hot drive, we arrived at Galdessa Tented Camp.

Ah, Galdessa, a quite unique camp situated on the banks of the wide Galana River. The word galdessa, by the way, means baboon in Walangula, the tribe inhabiting the area.

Gratefully, we abandoned the 4x4 to be welcomed with enthusiasm by Sandy and Gus Alexander into what seemed paradise - a wide, high, open-walled lodge magnificently furnished with sink-into chairs, wooden beams, thatch, stone pillars and a bookcase filled with books.

As we sipped a heavenly iced beer, a herd of 20 or so elephants obligingly strolled down to drink on the opposite bank. Perfection.

Small and exclusive, eight bandas (semi-tented bungalows of thatch, canvas, timber and stone) face the river. This was Out of Africa in the classiest way.

Galdessa is extremely remote. On one side is the river, on the other, the Yatta Plateau, the world's oldest and longest fossilised lava flow (200km long, one kilometre wide and 10-million years old).

After a leisurely lunch, we girded our tired loins and prepared to go on a game walk.

It was then that Gus (ranger, guide and Sandy's co-manager) introduced us to Lesinku the Maasai. Lesinku would lead us, said Gus.

Beside the Lugard Falls we ambled, Lesinku's long legs almost double our pathetic trots.

So who was Lugard? He turned out to be Sir Frederick John Dealtry Lugard, British explorer, who between 1878 and 1888 discovered these falls. A good man, he fought fiercely for the emancipation of slaves and mounted campaigns against the slave traders. He was later to become the high commissioner of Northern Nigeria and then the governor of Hong Kong.

Lesinku led while knowledgeable Gus interpreted the signs of the wild - flora, birds endemic to East Africa, and geological formations unknown to us.

After several hours, we hiked up a hill and arrived exhausted at the crest to discover the staff of Galdessa had set out a table, some snacks and an array of suitable liquid refreshment. While that was immensely pleasurable, what was totally mindblowing was the view over the endless African valley to the distant mountains.

"The one with the thick cloud is Mount Kilimanjaro," said Gus. "Sometimes it clears and you see the peak."

It didn't and we didn't but no matter, we were privileged to be in this special Kenyan place.


* Carol Lazar visited Kenya as a guest of Kenya Airlines and Wild Frontiers.


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