Lake Nakuru's Rhinos & the Tea Fields of Kericho

Sarah wrapped up project work mid-afternoon on Friday and we quickly headed to Lake Nakuru, about 3 1/2 hours away, for the weekend.  In her Peace Corps days, Sarah pooled resources with a few other volunteers and arranged a matatu to drive them around the park to look for animals. Sarah was highly motivated to head back as the lake is beautiful and the animals abundant.  Again, a little time on the road afforded some amazing opportunities to take in Kenya's physical landscape, an hour or so of which was spent winding through the tea fields around Kericho.  The higher altitude (cooler weather) and near-daily rains make for prime tea-growing conditions, apparently.  After we got back, still replaying images of the geometric patterns formed by light green tea leaves on seemingly endless hillsides, a headline in Kenya's The Standard declared that tea was now Kenya's number one export ("horticulture" was second and tourism third). 

Nakuru on Friday night was bustling.  After investigating a few hotels (accommodations continue to be a bit of a struggle) we settled on a place between Nakuru town and Nakuru National Park.  While exploring the town we met a guy arranging trips around the park. A little bit of haggling and soon we had decent price for a "Jeep" (I think it was a Suzuki, actually), with a removable roof, to pick us up at 6:30am.  It felt good to have some details hammered out the night before and not to have to cast about the park's entrance looking for a way around.  Since animals are more active in the morning, the early start was definitely a bonus.  One delicious Ethiopian dinner later -- $4 USD got us over-sized plates of injera covered in assorted, spicy sauces under a cloth-tapered ceiling with a hanging chandelier -- and we quickly went about the task of falling asleep, trying not to let the excitement of tomorrow's plans, or the incessantly howling dogs outside, distract too much.  

A man named Moses in a white, Jeep-like Suzuki picked us up in the morning and guided us around Lake Nakuru's dirt roads, winding through acacia forests and salt-crusted lakesides, up cliffs overlooking the park, and ultimately, circumnavigating the lake entirely. The day was cool and peaceful in the morning; hot and dusty by mid-day; wildlife-filled throughout.  Driving to the park we spotted a group of zebras, two of whom were mating.  We tried to show a little more respect this time around and left the camera in the bag, though our slack-jawed faces may have felt just as invasive.  At the entrance to the park, I quickly ducked inside the visitor's booth to pay the entrance fee while Sarah munched on a pastry in the car.  When I came back a few minutes later she was crouched inside, a monkey pawing at the sunroof above her head.  

Unable to contain her safari skills, Sarah had popped the roof and was standing up, inside the car, having a look around the entrance when a monkey dove into the vehicle, snatched a handful of fruitcake from inside its plastic wrapping, and promptly panicked.  Sarah, also concerned, crouched down to slide open some windows.  The monkey ignored the new exit and left the same way it came in.  Sarah shut herself in the car, and the monkey, now firmly resolved it could repeat it's highly successful stunt, started looking for a way back in.  It was a startling beginning to a day filled with surprisingly close encounters with wild animals.  

Early morning was chilly on the lakeside and huge African buffalo snorted mist and stared down our vehicle as we rumbled along.  It's hard to believe that these gigantic, powerful animals are vegetarian.  A few turns later and we were surrounded by thirty or so baboons swinging from tree branches and racing down the dirt road we drove in on.  The day pretty much continued like that -- we'd leave one mini-geographical area replete with one animal and a few minutes later be in another spot that not only looked and felt different, but was occupied with different animals. Although there were periods where we just cruised along the road taking in the plant and bird life, it never lasted too long.  The whole experience felt dreamlike; some kind of Safari Bingo as we spotted: Rothschild giraffes; rhinos (both white (several) and black (one)); Vervet monkeys; black-and-white Colobus monkeys; African buffalo; elands; gazelles; dik-diks; warthogs; plains zebra; waterbuck; baboons; various species of antelope; flamingos, storks, pelicans, and countless other birds.

The park also hosts some cats.  Although we found several paw prints in the road, we didn't see  these animals.  Moses told us they tend to sleep during the day and are hard to spot in this park. 

Early in the morning, still heading towards the lake's shore, we encountered a huge, lumbering, white rhino munching on grass.  Prehistoric looking, it didn't seem bothered by our presence. We turned off the car and watched as he grazed, crossed the road, and headed toward a small pool of water, pausing along the way to relieve himself.  It didn't seem like an encounter we should be able to have and it left us stunned.  The moment also yielded, perhaps, the greatest picture ever taken of a rhinoceros peeing: 

A few moments later, standing on a mix of grass and salt depositsm where a river met the lake's edge, the (literally) millions of pink flamingos had mostly migrated to Lake Bogoria, but several hudred remained behind and mingled among white pelicans and gray-brown storks.  A herd of zebras soon approached to drink out of the river, getting surprisingly close.  

A short while later, we spotted an adolescent rhino that easily could have tipped our car on its own, without it's escort's help. 

Sarah was right to insist on a vehicle where we could stand.  It was a wholly engaging experience standing upright as we lumbered down bumpy roads, spotting wildlife and encountering new pockets of plant diversity with a 360 degree view.  

A group of four adult and one adolescent giraffe.  Again, just incredibly close. 

Even without the animals, the landscape was staggering. Dry grasslands. Acacia forest. Lush hills. Barren cliffs.  

Exhilarated and dusty, we left the park for a late lunch in town before heading towards Kericho for a peaceful night among tea fields. Unfortunately, we miscalculated and missed out on the incredibly lenient "resident" pricing policy at the once-glorious Tea Hotel -- definitely where we'll stay next time.  

Kericho is an oddity.  It has this important economic function for Kenya, but it also is one of the most colonial-looking places we've been.  The tea fields are broken up by large mansions and a few clusters of smaller, nearly identical structures for the workers and their families.  All the buildings are white.  Things seem more orderly than any other town we've been to, but the environment remains, at least by appearance, so steeped in a colonial structure that it's abundant peacefulness has a slight, disconcerting edge to it. Seeing all that fertile land devoted to tea for export is troubling when food security is still such a pressing domestic issue.  The Tea Hotel itself was a striking example of what colonialism's heyday provided for and where it can end up -- the original wallpaper now peeling off in large, jagged chunks; art-deco style woodwork and furniture beaten and dusty; curtains crumbling from blocking 60 years of afternoon sun; still manicured lawns leading to an overgrown tennis court and a green pool.  It was like walking through a painting.  

The town itself felt decidedly more Kenyan, though cleaner and more peaceful than any we've been to. There was a small, grassy park in the town center filled with families and we strolled the streets with fewer double-takes and stares than we've become accustomed to.  All told, it was an incredibly intriguing weekend full of extremes that felt uniquely Kenyan.

So, I went to the market with 150 shillings ($1.85 USD)

Kisumu

Sarah had a meeting in Kenya's third-largest town on Friday, so we traveled two hours to the shores of Lake Victoria for her to attend. Sarah has nothing but good memories of Kisumu at it was the closest big town to her very remote Peace Corps site and the place where she would frequently meet other volunteers to unwind. Although the town still displays the very visible scars of the fires and rioting that followed the last election (the opposition candidate, Odinga, and his tribe, the Luo, are from here), the town felt peaceful and slower than crammed-in Kisii. It was also our first weekend off together in Kenya so we were looking to make the most of it. 

While the allure of Kenyan food isn't about to launch a thousand ships, the all-vegetarian, South Indian restaurant, Raj Sappy in Kisimu, just might.  Our best meal yet. 

On Saturday, we took a walk out of town, where the asphalt soon gave way to a dirt road, and white-washed mansions hidden behind gates with guards turned into familiar looking shacks with equal numbers of goats, chickens, and children out front. We made it to Hippo Point just before lunch and headed out on a boat to get a better look. Weaving through the the thick green petals of the water hyacinth that is slowing choking the lake to death, we passed Dunga, a small fishing village. Naked children played on large rocks; men cast lines into the water; women washed clothes; and the occasional, very precarious looking sailboat slowly passed by.

After turning a corner of the lake, not far from the fishing village, we quickly spotted hippos. First, just eyes, ears, and nostrils. Then the outline of a head. And soon the length of a body breaking the water's surface. Although hippos sleep in the daytime, a male hippo's interests were unusually piqued and soon he was mounting a female hippo on a rock just below the water's surface. All we could see was her head, but the back of his massive frame was above water and we were able to observe the scars on his back from fights with other males. We tried to respect the hippos' dignity, but struggled to balance curiosity with some measure of etiquette and self-preservation.

The rest of the day was spent lakeside, at Kiboko Bay Resort, where $2.50 USD got us onto the pool deck. We relaxed and cooled down along the shore of the lake and got in some good reading under a palm tree. One tuk-tuk ride home (the only mode of transportation that is also an onomatopoeia!) and one of the more relaxing days we've had in a while was nearly over. Dinner was easy and good at Green Garden, an affordable and surprisingly peaceful restaurant in a courtyard that looks like it shouldn't exist. The restaurant is the only business open at night amidst several blocks of completely closed, abandoned, or burned down buildings, save for a few guards trying to distract away the night's long hours.

Sunday morning we relaxed at one of the hotelis on the lakefront, which all seem to serve the exact same thing -- fresh-caught tilapia from the lake. It was another peaceful moment in a weekend full of them and we both were elated to have set the bar so high for future weekend getaways.

On to Kisii

After a quick, missed meeting at Gertrude's Children's Hospital, we wound our way out of Nairobi, past the U.S. Embassy, it's flag at half-mast for Congresswoman Giffords. The houses quickly thinned and the roadside woodworkers gave way to rows of plant starts, neatly lined along the shoulder, providing a surprisingly manicured beginning to a stunning, six-hour drive west. We rounded out of the lush green canyons of Nairobi's suburbs and crested a hill overlooking the Great Rift Valley. Before descending, we passed two baboons on the roadside, one faced forward, like a ticket-taker, the other turned to the side, ponderous, its chin resting on a closed fist.

The road was good, but the ground was dusty and dry. Despite our vigilance, we spotted only a few groupings of impalas roaming the valley. Every fifteen minutes or so, though, we'd pass through another town, consisting of a few hundred meters of strip-mall like dukas with a glut of people outside. After the fifteenth town or so it dawned on me that Kisii may not look much different: hardened dirt as the de facto sidewalk along a two lane highway; a deep ditch (to collect/manage water?) giving way to a long narrow parking lot; and then rows and rows of leaning shops, the bright colors faded by the African sun, topped with roofs of corrugated tin, sporting names like Chemistry Enterprises International and Obama's Pentagon Cafe.

And we saw cattle. Herds taken out to graze by lone Maasai, their slender bodies wrapped in red fabric. Herds grouped around a small, stagnant pond, lapping up the water. Herds led along the roadside by eight year old boys with a switch in their hand. And if it wasn't cows, it was goats. Everywhere were signs of subsistence farming as women walked along the roadside with barrels of water balanced atop their heads and men hugged the shoulder pushing bicycles with bundles of wide, dry grasses fastened to the frame.

We stopped in Narok for nyama choma (roast meat) and sukuma wiki (sauteed collard greens) and experienced our first, pelting rainstorm, coming down like machine fire on the tin roof, quickly turning the red-brown roads into a clay-like mess. The storm soon passed and with renewed visibility the scenery turned a lush green as we gained elevation and neared the rolling, green hills of Kisii. The open, arid lands and rare signs of life that dominated our early afternoon had given way to fields of tea and maize, covered by the sprawling, cut-up leaves of banana trees.

It was hard to get a real sense of the layout as we arrived after dark, but Kisii was bigger than any town we had passed through. The streets were filled with people and there were lights (electricity!) dotting the landscape. A meal of "wet" Tilapia, sukuma wiki, chapati, and rice with vegetables was more than enough as we quickly scanned our surroundings and passed out, exhausted, from the drive toward Kenya's western border.

Nairobi

Settled into Nairobi easily. No matter where you are or, even, who is doing the greeting, being met at the airport just feels good. Here, a driver named George, just outside customs, held a printed sign for "Sarah and Armand Perry." There's a first for everything. One police checkpoint later -- looking for "thugs," George told us -- and with the sound of a few gunshots ringing as the guard opened the gate to Ben's apartment, we were done traveling for the day. Several samosas and a beer later we began to sleep our way into Nairobi time.

The next three days mixed work with exploring. On Sunday, we had a very Western and cheap breakfast at Java coffeehouse in the YaYa Centre near Ben's apartment. Afterwards, we explored a traveling Maasai market, made much easier than it should have been as 90% of the vendors were ensconced in a monthly meeting a hundred feet away. Items ranged from woodworking of native animals and oil on canvas paintings of Maasai to sandals made of used tires. An afternoon orientation included the local Kenyan resident, Wairimu, a tall, thin, impeccably postured Nairobian who speaks an especially gracious form of King's English. She is also going to Kisii for the first time and is leaving family, a boyfriend, and her second year resident class to do so. After the orientation we spent the afternoon at the Arboretum, which borders the State House (read: White House), where a dirt trail wound through beautiful and gigantic trees and dozens of gray-brown monkeys with bright blue balls played endlessly in the branches above.

Monday, Sarah had meetings with the local residents and staff, went on rounds and explored the main hospital in Nairobi. I took a matatu into town, cut through the University of Nairobi's campus, and headed to the National Museum. The campus felt like any other, with students filling a large, grassy quad. Two of the larger buildings were named "American" and "Ghandi." The bookstore, also named after Ghandi, featured a life-sized, bronzed statute of the man in the entryway. I headed for the law section and found mostly UK-based materials, although there were a few books on American criminal justice and a handful of texts on corruption in Kenya and the committee to develop a new constitution. I struggled to get an overview of Kenya's legal structure and didn't spot the familiar case-law based books I am so used to in the U.S..

Nairobi was hectic and dusty and congested; the buildings fewer and less modern than I expected; the markets focused more on plastic than local produce. The museum was a cool respite to all that noise as I wandered from exhibits displaying local artifacts to an impressively long room filled with nothing but taxidermied birds. The archeological exhibits were unquestionably the prize, though, with skulls and a few nearly complete skeletons of early hominids. Every piece in the room was found within Kenya's borders, including a 1.5 million year old skeleton of "Turkana Boy." The exhibits brought home Kenya's unique geographic position as the country in which man literally first stood upright and provided some much-needed context for the travels ahead.