Look! There's a hippo! And it's behind that tree! 3/16

February 11, 2003

So my hands look funny. Red, save for my fingers. Now I'm just trying to stay out of the sun. I was hoping my body would get used to the Doxycyclin but an overland operator told me otherwise. Apparently few experience the ultimate side effect: the bizarre tingling in your hands. I get them. Cool.

Other than that (which is more funny than anything else), things are excellent. I'm currently in Jinja, Uganda, right on Lake Victoria and the White Nile and enjoying the heat wave (10 am-30 degrees). Ad now I'm trying to remember where I left off.

Right, so, the Dutch and I left Nairobi for Lake Naivasha, a fresh water lake in the Rift Valley. Travel was very uneventful, until we reached Naivasha town. Having no choice, hopped in a matatu (a service taxi that drives at break neck speeds on the horrible roads of Kenya -you often have to drive in the ditch- that carries as many people as possible) and raced to our destination. It was my first matatu experience and it was hilarious. When I say carry as many people as possible, I don't mean safely. Now, picture your typical mini van; that's what they kinda look like. So then picture about 35 people crammed into it, with luggage and the odd live chicken. Asses sticking out the windows, people holding onto strangers for dear life. At least, if you get in an accident, which is often, you won't get hurt cause there is no where to go! You're too crammed in! I have to say; I did find it amusing.

We did make it to Fisherman's Camp without incident. The camp is lovely, right on the Lake with much wildlife running about. The birds were fantastic: big scary gangster Marabou stalking about, Ibis taken straight from a hieroglyphic, various owls and then there were the Colobus monkeys. So cute and shy with their toy faces and long flowing black and white hair. We spent an afternoon with a family. But the hippos. The camp had to install an electric fence around the site to prevent the hippos from going for a stroll. They tend to come out of the lake at night to graze on some grass. Not sure if you know, but hippos are killers. They can run very quickly and they have no qualms in biting your head off. Obviously the camp doesn't want to lose tourists this way...bad for business.

One night we were sitting in the bar when Eagle Eye Mark spotted a hippo. By this point we were quite used to seeing them munching away at the grass but it's always a thrill. Also, Dana had just arrived from Mount Kenya and she hadn't had the pleasure yet. This is exactly what Mark said:
Look! There's a hippo! (pause) And he's behind that tree!

Security went wild. All you could see was flashlight beams bouncing in the night, and heard shouts and loud grunts from the poor hippo. He was just about 15 feet from us and, silly Dana and I followed at a 'safe' distance. The security got him on the move but in the wrong direction. Amazed we watched as the big old hippo ran right through Dana's clean laundry and then turned in our direction. Lucky for us, an overland truck was near and we jumped in just as the hippo ran past. A tiny Jack Russell finally got involved and he managed to chase the hippo back to the lake. That's right, 10 men could not do what one tiny terrier could.
Apparently, someone forgot to put the gate up that night.

And the rest of our stay was just as exciting, but in a much less dangerous way. We rented mountain bikes and rode 16 km to Crater Lake, where I got to hang out with Hassan and Ali, the resident camels. The ride was wicked fun, going through trails and stuff (Marty, you must feel so proud right now). We went for a hike around the crater, checking out all the wildlife. But by the time we had to leave both Elma and I were in a bit too much pain to ride (it had been a long time since I had ridden a bike and certain areas of the body get sore) so we hitched back with a rose truck (many Dutch live and grow roses in this area) while Mark rode.

We also rode bikes through Hell's Gate National Park, which made seeing giraffes and zebras quite different. I was hoping to see a leopard but...
I also learned why the park is called Hell's Gate. There's absolutely no shade, except when you hike through the gorge. This is where I discovered the hand tingles.

We had high tea at Elsamere, home to the late great Joy Adamson of Born Free fame. It was great...we put so much food on our plates we made ourselves sick. But let me tell you, this home is something else. I wouldn't mind living there, with colobus monkeys running around the yard, taking care of big cats. Pretty cool.

Then we finally left. Elma and Mark left us for Uganda (they only had a little time left) and Dana and I were to go to Narok, a Maasai town. I was to meet Dana, who decided to climb yet another mountain (I'm satisfied to see them stand), at the junction to Narok. About 80 km away, maybe 100. It took over 5 hours. I had heard of African time but this was a good lesson. I took a matatu to Navaisha town and changed to the one going to Narok. It stayed put for 2 and a half hours. They kept telling me we were leaving in 10 minutes and to stay in the matatu. It was boiling hot and my shin was bubbling from the doxy. I had a very nice, although drunken man wedged in beside me who kept telling the same story over and over again between intervals of sleep on my shoulder. It was lovely.

Dana and I did managed to meet up and made it safe and sound to Narok.

We were the only mzungu (white person) to actually stay in the town. It’s basically a quick stop for supplies before heading to Maasai Mara kind of place. We had a ball. People treated us wonderfully. If one of us went out to get a bottle of water, we wouldn’t return for hours because we’d have to stop and chat with everyone. Little children would pull on their mothers’ arms shouting Mzungu at the top of their lungs, actually happy, but amazed to see a white person. Everyone starred. Outright. We met a woman and her niece who adopted us and fed us and entertained us for the entire stay. Very kind people. It was great fun staying somewhere not touristy.

From Narok, we moved onto Kisumu, on the western side of Kenya. It’s a nice town right on Lake Victoria, and our first big malaria area. I felt a bit better about my doxy side effects. Only stayed one night but we still got adopted by locals. Although this time it was an Indian family. Years ago, Indians immigrated during the trade route and now are very much a part of the culture. Well, they tend to own the businesses.
Some misconceptions about Africa:

Did you know they don’t need any more donated clothes? Guess what they do with the truckloads. Sold in huge crates to entrepreneurs who then either open a store or take them to the market where they sell them for slightly more. They get very rich doing this. You’d be amazed at some of the clothes I’ve seen. Billabong board shorts, Polo dress shirts, no Armani but I’m sure it’s there. And it’s all almost new.
And folks do wear jeans here. In fact, everyone looks the same as home, except no gangsta gear (ok, maybe the odd bloke)

A farmer in Kenya told me that the cows (who are very fat and healthy looking) are inspected by a vet before slaughtering. Hmmm, seems pricey to me.

And it’s not cheap here.

Now I suppose that’s more than long enough. I apologize but know this: I’m saving you from my next installment for a few days. White Water Rafting on the mighty Nile. Teehee!
Love and miss you all,
thi