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.